Epiphany
by Tobi-Is-Fluffy-Chan
Summary: The tale of an African American southern "belle" with a foul mouth and a ghetto-sense of humor, surviving in a broken world with your familiar and typical, cross-bow wielding redneck. Daryl/OC, starts from Season One. Rated for language, racial slurs, violence and upcoming sexual situations
1. Mistakes

**Shame that I'm writing a new story when I have 20 something other ones to finish but I couldn't resist.**

**We all know Daryl is bae and is life, and ever since I started watching Walking Dead, I knew I had to write this. **

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><p>Chapter 1: Mistake<p>

_Clink. Clink. Clack!_

The deputy chief placed out the device used especially for what him and his team of officers were about to encounter.

He aligned the strip of long metal made of sharp, barbed spikes that pointed upward ready to puncture the criminals involved in the hit-and-run and high speed chase.

Rick let out a sigh, shaking his head as he grabbed his pistol out of his holster and crouched behind his light blue police-cruiser, next to his best friend, Shane Walsh. He never really understood why people chose to commit crimes. It led to incidents like this.

"You ready, man?" He could hear his best friend say, as he cocked his shotgun, ready to fire.

Rick nodded and they all listened attentively, as the only sounds heard were the natural environment of the country. The crickets chirped and a light breeze blew. The scorching, hot Georgia sun beat down of the police officers and they waited. It was _seemingly_ peaceful.

Suddenly, as if the world it's self was interrupted, and the natural balance in the alignment of the stars were in disarray, squealing tires fleetly speeding down the slightly cracked and old pavements of the Georgia road were heard.

And the wailing police sirens were heard.

They were getting closer and closer.

The squad could hear gunshots being shot. And then it happened.

An old rackety 1960s sports car decorated in scratched and scarred light blue paint came speeding down the road.

He gave a nod to each and everyone of his men.

Rick wanted to chuckle when Shane's thin, pink lips curved into a smug grin, but this was a serious matter. There was no time to laugh or play.

They had a job to do.

He braced his self as the squad car involved in the chase pulled over and the officers jumped out, guns in their hands, ready to shoot.

The blue car sped across the device, composed in a collection of tiny and barbed metal teeth. At that moment the two front, rubber tires of the car flattened and the two back tires punctured, causing the vehicle to increase in lateral force. It's destroyed, rubber tires slid down the road and the driver lost control of the wheel, trying to maneuver a turn; it tilted over, sliding sideways, and the tires struck a curb, digging into the soft Georgia ground.

The car flipped and tossed and rolled over. The imminent sounds of breaking glass and groans of people in pain drowned through the brown haired cop's ears. He watched with vigilant, blue eyes as the vehicle, now battered rolled off into the lush, green grass.

Rick Grimes stepped from his cover, gun cocked in front of him. He slowly crouched over yelling, "Put your hands where I can see them!"

The assailants made no response to his order. The driver kicked the battered door of his destroyed car open, rolling out and jumping up with a pistol in his hand. He pointed it at the officers, shooting bullets into any and every direction in an attempt to defy and of course _kill_ the officers.

As a threat was posed, Rick and his team started firing their weapons, Rick's bullet being the one to bring him to the grave.

As smoke was now pouring out of the car's engine, it sort of obstructed their view.

They braced themselves as more guns fired towards them and they returned, shooting back.

Shane cocked his shotgun, shooting another male perpetrator that attempted to shoot an automatic weapon at them.

A petite figure kicked the dented passenger door open and crawled out of the car, wincing in pain.

The light skinned female attempting to stand on her feet, stumbling a bit as her body met the grassy fields once again. Her dark, brown eyes squinted at the sight of blood droplets trickled across the different sized blades of green grass.

She rubbed her forehead, feeling warm liquid coat her hand.

It took Zenora less than a second to come to and feel the light-headedness subduing her. She knew she needed help fast before she possibly passed out from the amount of blood loss.

Zenora let out a heavy sigh, which took more energy than she thought; regardless, the African American female slowly scrambled to her feet, holding her bleeding head in the process. Her head full of nappy but soft and thick, light brown hair felt suddenly heavy on her head even being pulled back into a ponytail.

Gunshots.

Her chapped lips curved into a hopeful smile. She turned around towards the sound and limped closer and closer.

"Hold your hands up where I can see them!" She heard an officer yell.

_Boy, I never thought I'd be glad to see the police!_ She rejoiced in her mind, that would probably be damaged due to her vital fluids that were slowly seeping onto her hand that held the wound. She quickly wiped the blood the back of her light blue jeans, inching closer to the officers.

The smoke, which was still imminent but slowly cleared, made it hard for her to see. It was bad enough she might have bled to death soon, but _damn_, the smoke worsened her slightly blurred vision.

"Put your hands where I can see them!" A different officer with an even heavier southern accent shouted.

When she decided she was close enough, the light skinned woman let out a sigh of relief, removing her hand repainted in her bright red blood. She held her hands out, opening her mouth to yell to the officers the situation she was in and that she was well alive and needed help _fast_.

Zenora started to say, "H-Help! I'm -" but her words choked out as a large _bam!_ blurred over her ears and the only thing she heard other than gunshots ringing out was her own blood rushing through her ears. Her brown eyes looked down at the tiny hole on the right side of her stomach and the medium sized hole right above it, below her breast.

"Shit." She mouthed. She didn't even have the strength to whisper.

_But... I..._ the girl couldn't even think, as the holes burned. That particular part of her body felt like she was on fire and it pained her so.

Her dark brown eyes rolled to the back of her head as she hit the ground with a thud.

The last thing Zenora Brown remembered seeing was the dead bodies of the men she was with and she heard a man shout the name Rick.

**A/N: **

**OKAY. **

**I think I did okay on this introduction chappie? I hope so. *crosses fingers***

**If you are wondering that is EXACTLY how I imagine Zenora to look like (I own that pic btw, it was made by me) and yes! This is an eventual Daryl/OC.**

**I think you'll find my character to be very interesting... (:**

**Thanks For Reading!**

**Kumi-Chan/Tobi-Is-Fluffy-Chan**


	2. End of The Line

**Hi there! Welcome to the 2nd chappie of Epiphany. **

**I'd like to thank EVERYONE who favorites and alerted, not to mention SHENE CRYER, my first reviewer. Thanks and I hope you all enjoy this new chapter.**

**More light is shed and more WD characters are introduced. I liked writing this one... I'm going to enjoy writing future chapters as well!**

**Enough of my babbling, please enjoy. **

**Rated T for language, violence and racial slurs!**

**Happy Reads! **

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><p>Chapter 2: End of The Line<p>

Dry.

That's what my mouth felt like. I let out a heavy sigh, snapping my eyes shut when I felt my throat clench. I was thirsty. Mad thirsty. I slowly sat up, opening my eyes again.

The blurriness concealing my eyesight slowly faded and it was clear that I wasn't at the _trap_ anymore. I felt a shiver go up my spine, as I leaned back, falling onto a mountain of limp, white pillows.

My eyes darted to the needle stuck in my arm and to the clear liquids being ejected through the tubes, connecting to the needle. I let out a heavy sigh, heaving myself up and yanking it out of my arm; I didn't need any flashbacks coming to me now.

I needed to figure out just where the hell I was.

The dimly lit light shined on me, as I panned my eyes around, taking in natural surroundings.

A hospital room.

That's where I was.

Swinging my legs over the cold and metal railing of the bed, I jumped out of bed but stumbled forward in a drunken stagger, crashing into the nightstand table next to the cot and wincing in pain at the burning sensation coming from the right side of my stomach and under my breast.

What the hell? I ripped parts of the hospital gown off and scowled in disdain at the heavy smell of ointments and the dingy bandages taped and covering my right breast and right side of my stomach.

Warily raising my index finger, I poke the two, red spots where it stung and burned the most.

"Shit!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, my voice strained from being overly-dehydrated.

I slowly stood up, waiting a couple of seconds before taking my first step.

I was limping, rather than walking normally but made my way to a closed door, on the other side of the room from where the bed faced.

Slowly opening in, my eyes watered at the sight of a mirror and faucet.

A faucet meant water.

And water meant...

I rushed over to the sink, turning the faucet's nob and burying my face under the lukewarm, running water. I opened my mouth, enjoying it even if it was from the tap and not necessarily cold; water is water and when you're as thirsty as me, it sure as hell didn't matter.

After taking an ample amount until my throat was hydrated and I felt content, I wiped away dirt from large bathroom mirror with the back of my hand, gazing at my reflection.

_Just what the hell happened to you, Zenora Brown?_

That thought rung over and over in my head.

I let out a sigh, combing my fingers through my long, light brown hair. It was a tangled mess; if it wasn't any worse, I had course African American hair, which was definitely harder to manage than all of them white girls silky, smooth locks.

I had nothing to hold the frizzy locks out of my face, so I divided my hair into three sections, creating a big braid in the back of it. I pulled a loose lock behind my ear and gazed at my body.

The hospital gown, drenched in my sweat, clung loosely to my body; I had nothing under it.

Slowly lifting up the hem of it, my eyes roam across the bandages covering my body.

I took a moment to think back at why I was here.

What happened?

It hurt to think.

I shrugged the feeling off before letting the gown fall right back down and cover my exposed body.

After splashing my face with water, I sigh. Limping out of the bathroom, I make my way to the other door that I hoped led out of this room. Maybe then I could get some help and answers.

I reached for the doorknob but shook when it fell right out of the socket, hitting the floor with a loud _clink! _

I looked down at it for a second, before shrugging my shoulders.

_I didn't do it... _

I poked a finger through the sole of the socket, slowly and carefully pulling the door open. I limped out, looking around at the destroyed hallway surrounding me in shock. The hall was dimly lit and I could hear screams, shouts and the shuffling of something. I turned to the side, eyeing what looked like the silhouette of a person one door down.

Taking a step, closer, I discovered it _in fact_ was a person. A cop at that!

"H-Hey!" I whispered to the police officer, frantically moving a hospital cot to block the door leading to another hospital room. I watched with furrowed eyebrows as his eyes widened at the sight of me.

He wore a dingy, light brown button-up shirt with short sleeves, tucked halfway into his dark brown slacks. I eyed the belt he wore, which was sported with a holster _and_ pistol, a taser gun clipped to the other side, not to mention different clips that held reloadable bullets for his handgun. As if I was scum of the earth, he rose his head, that aristocrat pointed nose of his held upwards in the air.

I determined that I knew him from somewhere... He looked familiar but I ain't ever encounter no cop that looked like him... it sure was apparent that he knew me some how, though. I watched, leaning against the now closed door and he pulled his gun out his holster aiming it directly at my heaving chest.

The name tag attached to his shirt's pocket read:

_Officer Shane Walsh_

"Are you fuckin' kidding me?" He yelled at me, anger laced on his southern tone. "_You're_ awake and Rick ain't?!" His dark brown eyes glared daggers into mine and I looked at the spinning, tiled floors, grabbing a large shard of broken glass. The way he glared at me and bit his bottom lip... I felt like he might just shoot me dead.

"I don't know no Rick." I started to say, but I noticed the way that name echoed in my head. I heard it somewhere before... "Y-You _best'a_ get that gun away from me..." I trailed off, trying to sound threatening with my light, soprano voice drawling out the southern Georgia tone in me.

Who the hell I was kidding? I just woke up from the hospital. I was _weak_; I had been shot _twice_ and my foggy mind had no intention of reminding me how I ended up here in the first place. Half of me wondered why this hospital was so out of shape.

Wires and shit hanging from the wall, broken glass littered the tiled floors, it was so _hot _I felt like I was burning up and I could feel the sweat trickling down carious parts of my body only dressed in the white hospital gown.

Zenora, girl... you gave no strength to even keep yourself up; hence me using the broken frames that this brown door leading to my room, as a type of support.

The white man, with short and curly dark brown hair gritted his teeth at me. He looked like he was about to take a step closer, but what sounded like... _gunshots_?! Gunshots of what seemed to be an automatic weapon rang out coming from down the destroyed hall behind us.

"I don't got time for this." He simply said, taking the aim of his pistol off of me. A sigh of relief escaped my lips but I painfully clutched my bandaged body, gritting my teeth as I collapsed to the tiled hospital floors in agony.

I looked up at the officer named Shane. "Well don't just stand there! Aren't you gonna' help me?!"

He let out a dark chuckle. "Help you?!" _Shane_ kicked my reaching hand away from himself with the back of his shoe, causing me to hiss as it felt numb from his heavy boot slapping it away. "Them people will get your black ass. Serves you right from shooting my buddy."

"Sh-Shoot your buddy?!" I called out to him, as he turned his back on me. I clutched the right side of my stinging body. What the hell did he mean by that? I ain't shoot nobody!

He started to slowly walk away, as if he was looking around for any possible dangers.

I glared at the back of this "police officer." Boy I tell you; they were all the damn same! Pretending to be saviors of the world... It made me angry.

He was about a foot away from me and I could hear the gunshots getting closer to me. It turned my anger into fear and I bit my chapped bottom lip, contemplating on what I should have done.

Using unknown strength that I had, I held onto the grim, white walls covered with streaks of red. I stopped for a half second, using one of my fingers to graze over the red, freshly painting my hand.

It was cold but looked like... My eyes darted to the two faint handprints shown on the wall and I immediately grimaced.

"Hey!" I screamed to the officer around me, quickly using my feet to step over broken glass. I was right behind him now and gasped at the dead body leaned against the wooden reception desk of the hospital.

He or she looked so badly tore up. A hole directly at the person's forehead caught my attention.

I was beyond scared, now. "You're not leaving me here." I sternly whispered to the police officer named Shane Walsh. My protection. This asshole was my only hope at getting out of here alive. He had the gun; I had never been to a hospital before. If I got hurt back in the day, I would be healed to my former self by anyone I associated myself with.

Pain meds, _Robitussin_, bandages and cold water.

That was what my body was used to. Not no fancy hospital I-V.

Times was scarce for me and so was money.

"Get the hell off of me, woman!" Shane shouted, using his arms to shove me from leaning against his side. I flew back, my head bumping the reception desk. I was face to face with that dead person. I don't know why... but as if it was second-hand nature, I screamed at the top of my lungs, closing my eyes.

"If you don't shut up," the man seethed to me, grasping the sleeves of my hospital gown with his calloused hands. He shook me a good bit and clamped a hand over my mouth, cutting off my terrified shrieks.

"Keep your damn mouth shut." He whispered to he, his beer and peppermint smelling breath blowing against my cheek as I turned my head away from him, stubbornly.

I wasn't about to let no damn cop tell me what to do or threaten _me_. "Don't you push me, **cracker**." I found myself defiantly murmuring to him, as he leaned his body against mines. I glared up at him with my chocolate brown eyes seething into his own dark ones.

Shane slowly inched closer to me, that same look of disgust plastered on his face when he first saw me awoken and not his friend, _Rick_. "Shut up if you know what's good for you, _nigger_." He retorts, gawking at me with them dark eyes.

Shoving his face away from mine, I gasped sharply as he pinched where my bandages were, digging his nails into the healed bullet wounds I had. I lashed my head back and forth at him, wanting to scream out even more than I did before as the pain over took me. Shane Walsh moved his hand from my side and the look on his face made me narrow my eyes into slits; if I narrowed them any further, they may have ripped my eyelids in two. This cocky asshole's face read: _That's right. I have all the power._

It made me beyond pissed at this asshole, _racist_ police officer but... more than 75% of me knew he was right and was my only chance at survival.

"Let's clear this floor." A muffled voice said.

The dark haired man pressed a finger to his lips, looking down at me. I slowly nodded, understand that if I didn't keep quiet, we were done for.

The two of us watched as two men, wearing gas masks and U.S army attire strutted past us, not noticing the lean but toned police officer pressing himself against my body.

The smell of cheap beer and baby powder flooded my nose and I held my breath, as he covered me entirely. I peeked out of the crook of his neck, watching as the U.S. army men clutched their big weapons from their sides.

What looked to be a drugged out person, moaning and slowly walking with outstretched arms from afar, came at them and they immediately burst out in fire.

I wasn't fond of loud noises... I started to panic, shaking my head at the loud amount of gunshots ringing in my ears; I found myself hiding my face with a hand, letting the police officer pick me up and carry me to wherever.

.

.

.

"Holy shit..." I whispered to myself at the sight of the world surrounding us. Both of our eyes scanned across the streets of what used to be lil', ol' _peaceful_ Georgia tainted in various spots with red liquid; **blood**. The grey skies slowly drizzled with light droplets of rain, washing away part of the residue. U.S army trucks crowded the streets and loud bangs and gunshot were heard.

I felt a tear fall down my face and I cried to myself, grasping the officer holding me, closer to my petite body.

I ignored the looks of annoyance engraved in his features, hiding my face in the crook of his neck and I clutched chucks of his light brown button-up, police attire.

I could feel us slowly moving forward; he took cautious steps and his head always turned from the left and the right; his stubbled face would occasionally hit mine.

I opened my eyes that were tightly closed shut for a second, glancing around for anything but _damn_...

"Sweet Jesus..." I whispered to myself at the sight of a _old man_ running towards us. This old man was dressed in nothing but a tattered and blood covered hospital gown. One of his legs was bleeding madly and his arms, outstretched in front of him had hands formed into claws.

Those milky, blue eyes of his stared into my soul... His mouth slowly opened and black liquid oozed from in between his lips. Those lips twitched as if he was trying to smile hungrily; or did I imagine that?

Imminent moans drowned through this young man's ears and he dropped me on the pavements of the ground, pulling his gun out his holster. He closed an eye, pointing his handgun directly at the running old man. I watched as he cocked his pistol and bullets fired from the barrel.

All of his shots missed and the groaning old man got close enough to tackle himself on top of the Shane, attempting to claw at him with his dirty hands. He nipped his teeth, bucking his head. Was he trying to... _bite_ him?

The pistol flew out of his grasp and he hit the floor with a thud; the old man was perched on top of the struggling white male. Shane brought his knee up, giving a low blow to the crazy, attacking man. There was **no** painful reaction as he did that. Just more groans.

What the hell was I witnessing?

I dumbfoundedly stared at what seemed to be a drunken or drugged out old man. His limp body was decorated with different types of botches and scratches. He moaned and groaned as if that was the only thing he knew how to do. I watched the police officer kick him off of himself, scrambling to his feet. He frantically looked around for something, cussing under his breath as the man slowly rose up like a vampire, awaking from a coffin.

He looked at me with those strange, blurred eyes. His mouth opened to show yellow teeth, stained with red and I gulped as he slowly was now limping towards me.

My breath hitched and I tucked a loose strand of light brown hair behind my ear, licking my chapped lips in the process.

I slowly backed up, my scrambling legs kicking something in the process a few inches from my body; Shane Walsh's pistol.

As the man stood right in front of me, towering over me, I noticed a protruding bite mark, pulsing at his thigh. The skin surrounding it was different colors of botched green and purple. Blood oozed and trickled down from it.

He clawed a hand at me, hitting me on the cheek and making me flip over on my side; the hospital gown not secured properly eneed up exposing my light skinned ass and back. I winced as I landed directly on my side which was recently shot up and freshly healed.

I could hear his groaning at me. As tears flooded my eyes, an unknown mechanism clicked in my head and I took a long reach at the firearm, turning around and pulling the trigger.

Blood splatter on me as the one bullet fired and the old man's gunshot to the head leaked blood. He flew to the ground, his knees buckling and one last hiss of pain escaping his lips.

I threw the gun, shaking madly and looked down wide-eyed at my trembling hands, now covered in non-noticeable gun powder from firing the weapon.

_Zenora Brown had just killed a man._

Sure... it may have been considered self defense but... _damn it_! I shot him in cold blood!

I was snapped out of my thoughts by the sound of a horn beeping.

I slowly looked up, tears caking my eyes as Shane ducked his head out of a police-cruiser truck. He grimaced at me but quickly waved his hand for me to come.

.

.

.

"Where is we going?" I questioned as the man named Shane scratched his head full of short, dark curls. His eyes stayed on the empty roads, driving to wherever he was taking us.

Shane rolled his eyes and his jaw tightened. "I ain't with you. You're _lucky_ I chose to save your ass back there." - "It... It wasn't supposed to be you who woke up... It was supposed to be **Rick**!"

Here we go with this nigga named Rick! _Who the hell_ was he and why was the damn cracker blaming _me_ for him not waking up?! I scowled, slapping his arm stubbornly. "You sure are an asshole, Shane Walsh!"

Me even so much as touching him, caused the man to slam his foot on the breaks, making the truck come to a screeching halt. I was slightly yanked forward but used my hands to stop myself from going any further, by placing them on the black and leather dashboard in front of us.

"Don't touch me and don't fucking call my name. Got that?" He seethed, pushing the gas and continued to drive.

Releasing a heavy sighed filled with anger and annoyance, I yanked the seat belt, pulling it over my body and clicking it in place.

As the asshole maneuvered the car into a turn, I kept my eyes forward, not giving him the time of day with side glances.

...

"Zenora."

"What?" He inquired, eyes glued to the road we were driving down.

"Zenora Brown." I reprimanded, in a hard voice.

"... Well you already know my name, Zenora."

There was a silence ensuing over us as we turned down another short road and he parked the car in front of a small, white house.

"Get out." He shortly said, making his way out the car and walking up the stone steps leading onto the front porch.

I followed him, limping behind him, cautiously glancing around and holding the flaps to my gown tightly.

_**Regular POV**_

Zenora watched with lingering eyes as he tapped lightly on the glass, front door of the house they stopped at.

A skinny woman, with long and brunette tresses quickly opened the door, engulfing Shane with a hug. She dropped the aluminum baseball bat on the wooden floors of her home, tears falling from her eyes. "Is he-"

"I'm sorry, Lori..." Zenora watched as Shane interrupted the woman named Lori. "Rick is dead." He quietly retorted, holding his arms out for her to embrace herself in.

He let her sob for a while, before she pulled away, sniffling up the last of her tears.

The woman named Lori glanced over his shoulder and gasped, taking a long stride back. "Wh-What is that... why is _she... _Shane, what the hell!" Her southern accented voice stammered.

Zenora's thin yet bushy eyebrows knit together in slight confusion.

"Do... do I know... you?" Zenora questioned with a hand on her slightly curvy hip.

Shane whipped his face around and his lips spread into a thin, tight line.

_Just great. What the hell is going on up in here? Now some white woman named Lori hates me, too?_ She thought to herself, a scowl forming the the features of her light-skinned face.

Shane narrowed his eyes at Zenora and then turned back to Lori, his facial features displaying concern. He grasped her by the forearm, pulling her close to him. "Nevermind the _nigger_, Lori." Zenora glared. "We need to get outta' here. Things were bad back up at the hospital."

He let himself in and looked around in shock at the once peaceful home of his best friend, now in disarray. Furniture flipped over, glass broken, clothes and boxes thrown everywhere.

"Mom!" They could hear a little boy shout from the other side of the house. Lori gave a glare to the light-skinned woman leaned against the frame-columns of her porch and let herself out of Shane's tight grasp.

"Carl!" She called out, running to where his voice came from.

Shane soon followed and got in front of the woman, protectively holding her son with widened, wary eyes. "Stay back..." He trailed off in a whisper to them, reaching for one of the fireplace pokers, perched above it. He slowly grabbed one, tip-toeing over to the backdoor, letting it creek open.

Another _seemingly_ human-being was standing up and faced the house with the same blurred and milky eyes as the old man back at the hospital.

This time... he only had **one** leg.

It also happened to be Rick and Lori's next door neighbor. Skinny yet fit; the middle aged man's lustrous black hair was matted against him face. Scratches and scrapes decorated all over his body and the three pulsing bite marks danced across Shane's brown eyes.

He cussed under his breath as the once-man, now something deadly, fell with a soft _thud!_ to the grasses of ground, growling as he rolled off of his back. It's hands grasped blades of the green grass, desperately pulling it's self to get closer to Shane. Mr. Finnie's mouth wide open; the groaning coming from him was loud and sounded pleading.

Shane's thin, pink lips curved downward into a small frown and he walked over, not taking a second thought before driving the sharp end of the fire-poker into his head.

He pulled it out, not even giving a damn at the decomposed, foul-smelling flesh stuck to it, driving it back into the head of the used-to-be-human.

After a third time, when he decided it was dead enough to him, he tossed the stick to some random part of the backyard, going back into the house, just to see Lori cradling a crying Carl.

He tussled the boy's black hair, letting out a heavy sigh.

"Did you get your things packed like I _tol'_ you to do before I left?" He questioned to the brunette woman.

Her response was a short nod and he faintly smiled. "Lori, I'm taking you and Carl out of here, okay?"

He watched quietly as she stood up, nodding and walked closer to him, wrapping her arms around his neck, to pull him into a tight hug. "Thank you, Shane." Lori turned to her son. "We have to go Carl, okay?"

The boy rubbed his eyes but nodded, running to one of the rooms, and coming out with a big knapsack full of clothes and other necessities. He tossed it to Shane, who caught it with one hand.

After grabbing their need materials and bags loaded up with all they could carry, they headed for the front door, ready to leave behind the chaos ensuing upon their little town in Georgia.

Lori abruptly halted at the door, glaring daggers at the African American girl, perched on the porch's railing. She let out a _hmph!_ walking over to the police cruiser truck, tugging the wary and frowning Carl along with her.

"Shane... where we going, now?" She stood up, a glum expression plastered onto her face.

He stepped down the steps, turning to face her while shifting the big backpack on his shoulder to the other.

He gave a short nod to Lori, who was currently helping Carl climb into the backseat of the truck.

"Zenora or whatever your name is..." He started to say, ignoring the way her full lips settled into a frown and the way her eyes narrowed into slits. "It's the end of the line for you. Like I said before, there **ain't** no _me and you_. There **ain't** no _us_. And you were _really_ lucky I saved your ass back at the hospital."

He made his way towards the truck, opening the front door and climbing in.

The light skinned girl gasped sharply as the engine cranked up, and she rushed down the three stone steps ignoring the sharp pains hitting her right side."You can't just leave me here!" She shouted, tripping over her own two legs as the truck backed up.

"Shane!" She yelled, through gritted teeth as she struggled to stand.

"Shane!" She yelled again, letting tears flood her eyes as he drove off, leaving her alone and stranded.

_Damn it, all._ She thought to herself, grasping chucks of her light brown, frizzy hair.

**A/N:**

**Ouch. Shane. Ouch.**

**He was so mean bruh... like in the show I hated him since episode one and when Rick made it to the camp and Shane was looking like 'wtf'**

**Hit em' with the bruh button! Haha, omg. His face was priceless and same for Lori.**

**Did you all like this chapter? I think I did decent with descriptions and all of that... I love Zenora already. I wish she was actually apart of the show; there needs to be another black female character. Not like Michonne who is perf but too serious, but slick-mouthed, southern and ghetto.**

**That's my dream, y'all!**

**Okay, let me stop. Please review and give me constructive criticism if you can. Let me know what you think!**

**Liked it? Loved it? Hated it? Thought it was stupid? Hate Shane? Want Rick? Went too slow? Let me know!**

**Stay toomed for the next chapter, everyone.**

**Kumi-Chan/Tobi-Is-Fluffy-Chan**


	3. No Turning Back

**Hello everyone!**

**I'm so happy with where this story is going and that I completed a new chappie. Thanks alot to my new favorites and follows, as well as the reviews!**

**Plus, today's my birthday! So as a gift to yall, (reverse) I wrote a new chapter for Epiphany.**

**This chapter sheds a little more light. Just a little. Next chapter is gonna be where it's at!**

**Rated T for violence, racial slurs and language.**

**Special thanks to: SHENE CRYER, butterTARDIS36, Jessica. orr. 1884**

**Happy Reads! **

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><p>Chapter 3: No Turning Back<p>

Shane Walsh was supposed to be a police officer. Police officers were supposed to help out the needy, right?

Furiously wiping tears that slid down my cheeks, I heave in a shaky and heavy breath, then letting out a quick sigh.

_Zenora, get it together, girl. You ain't no wimp or no punk. You been through __**way**__ worse. _

I snicker at my own self conscious. Of course I been through worse! I got shot for crying out loud! _Twice._

Which was worst than the other? Being shot or being alone with no help or brains on where to go? Okay... _maybe_ the being shot-part...

But, where the hell was I going to go? What the hell was I going to do? Maybe Shane left me because of that woman and her son... she-she was something else.

This Lori-woman gave me stank glares and such a cold attitude like I tried to kidnap her baby or something. And I ain't **ever** see her before in my life! Shane was an exception because his face seemed so familiar and this man named _Rick_... I don't remember a face to go along with that name but I _do_ know I heard it somewhere before, adding to the fact that Shane kept hinting we had a past or something. _It wasn't supposed to be you. It was supposed to be Rick._

I let more tears stream down my eyes as I crouch over on my knees, pulling blades of grass from their roots. It was no use in thinking about irrelevant people, now. I was all _alone_. Injured _yet_ healed and worst of all, weird shit was happening up in the world.

I'm pushed far from my mind when the shuffling of something near me, added by cluster of deep growls caused me to fleetly rise up, my head snapping in the direction of where the noises were coming from.

_Shit._

As if my situation with being shot, rescued by an asshole police officer who later stranded me _and_ being **alone **couldn't get any worse, one of those _crazy niggas_ like the old man attacking me and Shane at the hospital started creeping over.

And this nigga brought a friend along, too!

One of these "people" used to be a black man. I could tell from his dark, but ashy skin. His eyes were bulging from his head and they held the same soul-binding milky stare. Something made my stomach clench and that was the very fact that there was a giant hole pierced where his stomach should be. You could see the next yard and the big trees through it.

Botches of bruises and scars were sported all across his friend's face and exposed body. The Caucasian woman only wore a blue nightgown and dirty, white socks now tainted with more red; **blood**. I slowly stood up, shaking a bit at the way the two pairs of blurred, grey eyes stared at me.

Their arms slowly outstretching at the _same, damn time_ and the way moans escaped from the back of their throats... it struck a sense of fear in me.

I manage a friendly smile at them."_Heh_," I laugh nervously, shaking my head as they inched slower to me and I continued to back up. "I-I don't want any trouble, so whatever you're on... keep it to yourself." I bellow to them.

As if they were deaf and didn't understand anything I said, they still kept walking towards me.

Taking a deep breath and tightly clutching the loose flaps of my hospital gown, I make my way up the three stone steps of the little white house belonging to the white woman, Lori.

What could happen to me now? Be arrested for trespassing on a white woman's property to seek shelter from two drugged out and severely injured people, slowly but menacingly chasing me? _And they should be dead... Nobody and I mean __**nobody**__ can survive a fucking hole up in they stomach. _

I somehow make it to the opened, glass door and I race inside, shutting it behind me. After clicking the two locks in place, I slowly back up, when I see their faces pressed against the glass. Their breathes are hitched and their groans, moans, murmuring of a different language, _whatever you want to call it!_ is drowning out in my ears. I can still hear it from the outside.

I feel like I can sigh in relief when the black man eases up and stumbles down the steps, away from the door but _fuck_... **Thank God** for blowing that light breeze and making it shiver up my spine. I whip my body around, gulping what felt like a giant baseball stuck in the back of my throat.

The backdoor was opened.

And that man, casually stepping over the other dead body in Lori's yard eyed me hungrily from afar.

People like this sure didn't let up, did they? As I wanted to take a step forward, the room seemed to stretch out longer and before I knew it, I figured it was too far of a distance. I had a better chance of being rescued than making it over to the other side of the house to lock the door and keep him from coming in.

I brace myself as his bare, dirty feet pittered and pattered across the grass, up the wooden steps of Lori's small back porch. The wooden stairs creeked with each foot placed on one and a part of his weight on a leg.

My breaths hitched as I was startled by the banging of what seemed like fists meeting glass.

I slowly turned around to see the white "woman" banging her clenched fists on the glass door. She bucked ger head against the glass as well, nipping her red stained teeth together as if she wanted to taste the air or something.

My heart beats were the only thing I heard right now. I found myself collapsing to the floor and looking up at the white ceilings, saying a little prayer in my head.

I was trapped and there was no way out. Cut off at every corner.

_**Regular POV**_

A lone tear slid down Zenora Brown's cheek as she let out what was thought to be her last breath.

The walker had made his way inside the house, walking towards her, his mouth opened and lips parted; the thing's breathing heavy and ragged from his fast, fluttering heart. His eyes read pure _hunger_.

As he was a short hall down from the light skinned female, she started to panic. Her eyes darted from the house in disarray, to the different objects placed at her disposal.

She knew she only had a limited amount of time as she scrambled to her feet, gulping when her eyes flickered to the aluminum baseball bat, once held by the brunette named Lori.

She crawled, scrambling over to the possible weapon, lodged in between a bookshelf near the front door where the other walker was banging various parts of her body against it.

She eyed the little crack made against the glass with wary eyes, quickly heaving the heavy weapon from it's place and holding it protectively in front of her.

Zenora stood up, one hand held at the tip of the baseball bat and the other at the end of it.

The walker now stood a foot away from her, his fingers twitching madly as he tried swinging an arm at her, to attack.

Zenora moved out of the way in time, before swinging the heavy bat into the empty stomach of the "man". He bent down from the blow, but slowly rose up as if it didn't phase him.

"What the fuck?!" Zenora sputtered out, swinging the bat once again, this time hitting his shoulder.

With another imminent groan, he landed into the frames of the white wall, a couple drops of blood staining against it. The walker was still up and running; this scared the light skinned woman.

She gulped when he slowly inched towards her, his head lunging forward and his mouth wide open as if he was trying to bite her.

_The bite marks..._ She thought to herself, jumping out of harm's way.

The bat fell from of her hands and she grasped it once more, hurling a throw at his head.

A strange and _blunt_ cracking sound was heard as the metal of the aluminum baseball bat collided with the side of his face; his head flew to the right and he stumbled back a far distance before letting out one final breath, dropping to the floor with a dull _thud!._

All that was left of the scene was a mess of a badly mangled body and large amounts of blood.

_**Zenora's POV**_

That had to be one of the most intense fights I ever had in my life. It was either _death_ or _something even horrible than death_! Thoughts in my head kept me wondering what would have happened if he sunk his teeth into my flesh...

This sort of reminded me of that movie I once saw.

_Dawn of The Dead_

But, what are the odds of that shit coming to life? **Here?**

In Georgia?!

I let out a heavy sigh, about to drop the baseball bat to catch my breath, but I suddenly forgot. There was the _other_ one.

She was still trying to make his way inside to get me just like his friend tried. I half hoped if he witnessed his friend's death with them milky eyes... would she back off?

I was definitely wrong.

I turned back to face the dead body on the wooden floors of this home.

A dull ache flashed across my heart for a split second and I sighed heavily once more, suddenly feeling more pain on my right side.

I didn't have time to mourn for someone who _ended up dead_ in an attempt to attack _me_. My attention went back to the one at the door.

Slowly tip-toeing to the door, it seemed to... _excite_ her? I was faced to face with what used to be an ordinary woman. This thing... it couldn't even be considered a human, no more. Jesus Christ, it was like staring into the eyes of the dead.

What used to be crystal clear green eyes... changed into pale, grey orbs with a mild consistency. Those eyes were dull and bloodshot. Her mouth... I don't know why I ain't notice this before, but it was gone. One of her thin lips were missing and the woman's jaw was _visible_. Blood decorated her face, the scars were now bulging and pulsing... one bite mark crossed my eye on the side of her exposed neck and collarbone.

I grimaced at the way her bottom lip curled back and a nasty growl emitted from the back of her throat.

I slowly reached for the lock, clicking it open.

I stepped a stride back, bat in my grasp, ready to swing like she was the baseball and I was hitter. My eyes watched as the door flew open by the strong breeze passing through and as she charged into the opened house, shrieks escaping her mouth.

I braced myself, the closer she got, the tighter my grip on the aluminum got.

I held my arms out in front of me, vigorously swaying the bat her neck and slightly wincing when she flipped over on her back. Hot tears started streaming from my closed eyes as I gritted my teeth, hitting and hurling the bat in various places of the body over and over.

I ignored the growls and groans coming from the woman getting my beat-down. With a strangled cry, I brought the bat down a few more times, the sounds of it's crunching filled my ears. Underneath me when I felt my energy go and I snapped my eyes open, was the mess of a skull, brain and blood.

My eyes flickers from the dark skinned and mangled "man" down in the hall, then to his friend beaten to a bloody pulp, and lastly to my shaking, bloodied hands holding the freshly painted, dark-red baseball bat.

I dropped it to the wood floors, rushing over to the front to lock it again and make sure more weren't tempted to come it. I whipped my head around to the open back door, knocking against the side of the house due the cool Georgia breeze and locked that one as well, once I managed to make my way to that other side of the house.

A tinge of safeness flashed over my body; I allowed myself to back up against the wall, sinking to floor, while clutching my aching, right side.

Shit, for waking up in a hospital... this all was something to go through! I still can't believe I managed to kill three people in possibly three hours of waking up.

.

.

.

I found myself dragging the two bodies out into the Lori's backyard, near the other dead person, missing a leg. It took another ounce of strength I never knew I had. The blood they shed had since long dried up on the wooden floors and I sure as well wasn't breaking my back to scrub it clean...

I took a look outside, just by peeking my head out the door. This small neighborhood and street was probably deserted by now.

I took a deep breath, exhaling it before limping into one of the open doors inside the house. It led to medium-sized bedroom, shabbily decorated. The drawers on the mahogany dressers were pulled out and discarded clothes rested in every corner.

I stepped over some of the broken glass in the room, opening the door in the corner of the room.

I pulled back the shower curtain, a hopeful smile plastering on my face.

.

.

.

Zenora frowned when she turned the silver knob of the bathtub. The head of the shower cranked up like an engine and shook as only four of the buds released it's stream of water.

She reached for the knob labeled _H_ and crossed her ring finger over her index, praying that the hot water was at least working. It was bad enough the shower only supplied a limited amount of water, but she could only hope that it would be hot.

Tired of waiting for water that never heated up, she slowly stood up from the side of the tub, tugging the flaps of her hospital gown and letting them hit the floor, exposing her light skinned body.

Zenora climbed into the tub, enjoying the little water that did come from the shower as it beat down on her skin. The light skinned woman released a content sigh as she loosened the braided hair, roaming her fingers through the nappy tangles of her brown tresses.

Soon after washing most of her body and wetting her entire head full of thick hair, her attention turned to the dingy, now brown bandages spread across the right side of her stomach and breast. She slowly used two fingers, peeling away the medical tape holding them in place, while gritting her teeth from pain caused by it, in the process.

The bandages hit the tub's floor with a wet _plop!_ and she slowly let the cold water wash over her freshly, healed gunshot wounds and the dried crusts of blood obscuring the skin on that area of her body.

.

.

.

_**Zenora's POV**_

I managed to find some _clean_ discarded underwear that Lori left behind. They were granny panties, but _hell_. I didn't care, underwear is underwear. I couldn't worry about what I had on underneath right now. I had to keep my mind set on living until the next day.

She didn't have any clean bras that I wear, so I resorted to the old fashion-way of scrubbing it with soap until I felt like it was tidy enough for me to wear. Lucky me we had the same breast-size as well... _Don't judge me._

I let out a sigh, looking at myself in the small bathroom mirror. I knew I at least was clean, ever since that mini-shower. I weaved my fingers through my damp hair roughly, to get out the new tangles that started to form; afterwards, I found a hair-tie lying around. I pulled my hair back, smoothing it over before tying it into a ponytail.

I opened the medicine cabinet, frowning when it was partly empty.

She musta' took all of the aspirins and bandages. I had nothing to rewrap my wound, but got a hint of hope when I found a bottle of half, empty rubbing-alcohol.

_Here we go_... I thought to myself, leisurely pouring the contents over my newly healed gunshot wounds.

"_Ah, fuck_!" I yelped, jumping up and prancing around at the stinging sensation of the alcohol meeting the stitches and botched wounds. I bent over, lightly blowing the areas where it burned and calmed down just as fast.

There was a ticking clock still plugged into the room, hanging on the wall.

The time read:

2:45 p.m

It was just mid afternoon, when I dressed myself in baggy, light blue and high waisted skinny jeans. They were a bit snug on my skinny body but I found a piece of rope to hold it in place, on my hips and waist. Covering my upper torso was an oversized, red and green flannel, so I tied the front into a knot and put on some old and dirty combat boots I found lying in one of these closets.

... It felt kind of wrong raiding this woman's house, but I couldn't worry about that now. Not after all that happened today.

I also figured that it wasn't safe to stay here. I had to find somewhere to go; possibly someone to be with... nobody like Shane Walsh or Miss. Attitude-Lori. Walking over the crushed glass spread across the den, I scanned the room for some sort of protection.

The baseball bat was too heavy and tired me out fast. I needed something light; something quick and effective just in case someone else tried to attack me. I walked into the kitchen, eyeing the remains of a broken silver picture-frame and the crumpled picture of a white man with blue eyes and light brown, short hair. He smiled widely and held in his arms was an infant I figured was Carl; the woman next to him was as good as Lori.

I picked it up, smoothing the image over and getting a good look at it before turning it around to a find diligently, written note on the back.

_To my wife, Lori._

_Love, Rick_

So, this house belong to this _Rick_ guy... the _Rick_ everyone was talking about and blaming me for him not wakin' up. I let out a sigh, shaking my head. And for some unknown reason, I folded the picture, putting in the back pocket of these jeans.

My eyes caught the attention of something hanging on a nail near the stove.

A big frying pan.

I picked it up in my grasp, feeling the course and metal materials of the back of it. It was an iron-metal pan; I knew this because my mama' used to have alot of these at the house... and I once used one before to fight a man who screwed me over.

This was **perfect**_._

I swung it in the air, letting out a girlish giggle at the _whooshing_ sound I heard. Not only was it light and durable, it was also a large pan and made of iron. Perfect for hitting crazy, growling people trying to attack and bite you.

I held the pan at my side, also not forgetting to grab the bottle of rubbing-alcohol and lone package of two _Tylenol_ pills I found in one of Lori's dressers. I also took a couple of her clean underwear and brown t-shirt I found, stuffing them into a fanny-pack.

There was no turning back as I left out the door, walking across the lawn.

I also didn't know where I was going, either... maybe I could make my way towards Atlanta. A city meant more people and more people probably meant... safety?

I don't know.

**A/N:**

**Ewww, I gave Zenora a fanny-pack! Haha, omg. And a frying-pan.**

**The frying-pan was totally inspired by Rochelle and the fact that it is a usable weapon in **_**Left 4 Dead II.**_

_**QotD: **_**Did anyone ever play L4D? Really awesome zombie apocalypse game. Ellis is bae.**

**(but Daryl is life)**

**Anyways, on a more serious note, I didn't really like this chapter. I feel like it lacked something or was maybe too long and boring? Idk.**

**Please leave a review. It can be anything and I would definitely love constructive criticism! (it's my birthday ****)**

**Thanks For Reading!**

**Stay tooned for the next chappie.**

**And more WD characters WILL be introduced... No more spoilers and we finally get somewhere guise!**

**Kumi-Chan/Tobi-Is-Fluffy-Chan**


	4. Triple D

**Hey everyone! Welcome to the 4th chappie' of Epiphany. I apologize for the extremely late update, but I was VERY busy and kind of disappointed with my lack of reviews and etcetera. **

**I, however didn't let that get to me because this story got a lot of hits and I'm in love with the new season. I want to hurry up and get chapters out and get this story going where it needs to be!**

**Daryl is bae as we all know and in this chappie, more WD characters finally appear, especially... NO SPOILERS.**

**you'll just have to read to find out!**

**A big thank you to all reviewers and this who favorites and alerted. It made me glad and happy! (Triple D stands for three things in this chappie, as a hint)**

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><p><em><strong>Disclaimers: I do not own The Walking Dead. Trust, if I did... Zenora would be real and Daryl would be MINE.<strong>_

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><p><strong>Btw, this story was made to showcase a more racial eccentric side to The Walking Dead. If any terms used are essentially offensive, I mean them in the lightest way possible and no harm is wanted.<strong>

**(I'm black myself and NOT racist at all.)**

**Rated T for language, violence and racial slurs, some romantic situations not present yet. (Rating subject to change in later chapters) **

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><p>Chapter 4: Triple D<p>

"Come on, man!" The dark haired man angrily slammed his fist onto the horn, beeping it. The ongoing traffic of cars crowded the Georgia highways.

Shane Walsh grazed his tongue over his lips, as he tapped his foot on the accelerator, slowly inching the car forward. The sounds of many different car horns beeped, as everyone else was trying to reach the city of Atlanta.

Lori consciously shook her head, clasping her hands together after she tucked a loose stand of brunette behind her ear.

"... Lori, baby... I don't think we should go to Atlanta." Shane finally said, giving a look of concern to the woman. He stared honestly into her widened blue eyes, prepared to hear her protests.

"W-We have to go! The news said it was safe there..."

Before Shane could respond, she interrupted him, "Where else will we go? How will we live? What about my Carl-" The middle aged brunette whipped her head around and reached in the backseat, roaming her fingers through her sleeping son's dark tresses.

A soft smile plastered on her face but as fast as it formed, is as fast as if turned upside down into a frown.

"I just think... that with so many people in the city, it's bad luck, Lor'. We could set up a camp-"

"And sleep in the woods? No, Shane. It's bad enough I don't have Rick with me..." Lori paused, looking down at her trembling hands. "... Just do what you think is right. That's the least I can do to repay you for saving Carl and I."

She felt his fingers interlace with hers and her thin lips curved into a hopeful smile at the tight squeeze he gave to her hand.

"I'm gonna' keep you safe, okay?"

Lori nodded her head. "Okay."

.

.

.

Zenora brought the frying pan down on what was about her sixth kill for the day. Her breaths hitched and the walker let out a final growl, dropping dead.

She wiped the imminent sweat from her forehead, not taking a look back as her journey down the road begun again. _Thank God this is a small town close to the highway..._ She thought to herself, swinging the bloodied frying pan at her side.

It had only been an hour since she left Lori's house and three hours since Shane left her there, himself.

Her eyes widened and she cracked a crooked grin at the sight of a bike crashed into the long blades of grass, coming up ahead of her.

Zenora pushed her tired body to run over to the bike, immediately frowning and scrunching up her nose at the foul smell slapping her cheek and sneaking up her nose.

"Damn, that stinks." She seethed, automatically covering her mouth and nose with the baggy sleeves of the plaid shirt she wore. Zenora slowed her running into a walk and tip-toed over to the discarded bicycle.

She checked the bike's chain, pedals and brakes, smiling to herself when everything was in tact. Her eyes widened at the mess laid out a few feet before her. She slowly walked forward; a bloody carcass of a teenage boy. His insides were torn out and his face portrayed a look of terror. The boy's mouth formed a perfect _'o'_ and his milky were widened.

"I'm sorry, sweet-pea..." Zenora whispered to the dead boy, picking up his bike and straddling the seat. She frowned a bit when she noticed his eyes blinking and heard a low growl emit from the back of his throat and placed her foot on the pedal, cruising off down the long Georgia road.

_Three Days Later_

Zenora Brown's POV

I counted three days in my head.

I knew I was lost and probably nowhere near Atlanta. If it wasn't for the large, bright yellow _detour_ _sign_ blocking the only way I knew to get to that damn place, I'd be skipping happily into the city barriers supposed to be set up and I'd be safe. **For good.**

I ended up peddling down a narrow dirt road and ended up in the middle of nowhere.

Smashed a couple of them peoples I decided to call _niggas_ along the way and then had to cross a large ravine, eventually leaving the bike behind due to a flat on one of the tires.

_Damn, Zenora. You seem to find bad luck every where you go..._ I thought to myself, shaking my head as I pressed on through some underbrush in the wooded area I was crossing through. I had to face the facts that I was lost in my own state of Georgia. I had no idea in hell where I was going and what was even going on in the world.

I wasn't dumb by a long shot though and from the notes I took in my head, I figured them people were zombies... Or something to that effect. _The blood, the growls, the clawing, the attempts to bite at me... It all added up._

I started losing hope when I popped the last Tylenol pill I had scavenged from Rick and Lori's house and used up the last of my rubbing alcohol on my wound. The only way I could bandage myself is if I came across a stream or source of _clean_ water and rewash the gauges I had wrapped around previously.

I let out a sigh, sucking in a bit of air at the pain in my lower stomach. Not from my healed wounds... but from hunger. I hadn't eaten, probably since I woke up from that hospital and my stomach was _growling_. Sounded like one of them _niggas_, themselves. My insides probably started to eat each itself by now.

I stepped over a discarded log belonging to a tree, but stopped midway at the large pile of shit on the other side. I frowned, scrunching my nose at the smell it gave off. Probably smelled more worse than the walking dead.

It had to belong to a animal of some kind. It ain't take rocket science for me to figure out that it was a deer. I thought about a fairly sized animal prancing through this thick wooded area, not having a care in the world. It didn't have to worry about _niggas_ trying to eat it alive. But the thoughts of it's happiness soon changed when my stomach quenched out a large growl. Hunger was on my mind and... I knew I wasn't no true country bumpkin who ate forest animals but a deer did sound good to me!

Hell, this was Georgia. We should all be used to eating types of animals like that... unless you lived in the city of Atlanta, which I didn't.

Not noticing that I was as still as a block of ice, my attention focused on just what I thought of before.

The light brown deer, large as hell about up to my stomach, thin with fur but thick with meat, came trotting across the underbrush near the log. It stopped halfway, cocking it's bare head to the side at the sight of me.

My grip tightened on the plastic handle of my frying pan and as if time stopped, he froze.

I slowly inched the frying pan up higher, closing one of my eyes to focus my aim on the deer... A clean knock to the head and he'd be down and out. I almost felt as bad as I did before but I couldn't worry about that right now. _A girl had to eat._

A couple more seconds passed before I lunged forward, swinging the weapon at the deer.

He was _fast_.

_Mighty fast_.

I only managed to bang the pan against his hip, which slowed him down a bit as he dashed over underbrush and through the woods.

I sighed quickly, getting my bearings before pushing my body to run after the animal, in the direction he went.

The deer made it's way into a small clearing, surrounded by lush, green bushes. Using my wits, I did what any smart person would do; hide in a bush.

I let out a quick sigh, pushing a loose strand of my thick, light brown hair that stuck out my ponytail, behind my ear. I had a little hope of relief when the deer seemed to have forgotten about me and trotted over to a patch of the bushes near the one I hid it.

I tensed for a bit, ready to emerge from my hiding place and knock him out clean.

The deer fell to the grassy floor with a _thud!_ as shock washed over me; an arrow was sticking out of his neck. Blood oozed from the wound as he struggled to breath and rise up.

I decided to end his suffering so I walked over to him, bringing my frying pan down on the arrow, to lunge it deeper into his neck and possible severe a major artery.

I have no idea where this arrow came from and it made me tense, just a little. _Them walkers couldn't shoot arrows, could they?_ I crouched down ready to dislodge it but then the bushes started to rustle beside me. I sure as hell didn't want _niggas_ all over my newly found food, so I stood up tall and strong, frying pan raised in a protective and offense stance ready to use if needed.

To my surprise, a tall gruff looking white man crept out slowly with a crossbow pointed at my head. "Who are ya'?" He asked in his heaving southern accent. His blue eyes pieced mine and his grip on his bow tightened.

I was half glad to see another person after the past few days but also annoyed that it had to be some country bumpkin, redneck with a damn crossbow, ready to shoot me dead. "Who _is_ you?" I fired back, making sure my light voice shrilled over his ears and he could hear the southern drawl in my voice, as well.

This man didn't budge, so I didn't either.

Normal POV

Zenora inched a step back when his grip on the crossbow's trigger failed to never move. His eyes were locked, dead set on her. The sharpened arrow was ready to pierce any part of her body he shot once it was released and projected through the still Georgia air.

The back of her combat boots hit the dead carcass of the deer. Zenora whipped her head back to get a good glance at it and then turned back around to face the man in front of her.

Her chocolate brown eyes roamed over his slight muscular build and the one tattoo plaguing over the side of his upper arm. He had short, silky but dingy dark-brown hair matted against the back of his neck and his forehead. The white man wore typical redneck attire, consisting of a plaid shirt with the sleeves cut off and baggy jeans, topped off with dark brown boots. His thin, pink lips formed a scowl as he noticed her sizing him from his head to his toes.

It seemed like forever before he lowered his crossbow a little at the same time the light skinned woman lowered her melee weapon.

"... Nice shot." She blankly said, still cautious as his eyes left hers, looking over at the carcass of the deer.

He suddenly brought his crossbow back up and Zenora immediately panicked, throwing her hands up in the air and dropping her metal, frying pan. It hit the ground with a loud _thud!_ and she bit her lips, nervously.

"C-Come on, man! What the hell did I do to-"

"Shut up." He said, closing one eye and peering the other into the scope lens provided on his crossbow. The dark haired man's hand pressed on the trigger and without a sense of hesitation he pulled it back and the arrow shot forward with immense speed.

Zenora expected another wound to be in a random part of her body, but instead, she felt nothing. She quickly opened her eyes that she had snapped shut and patted various areas of her slightly curvy body, laughing nervously when she found no arrow puncture her skin and stick out.

"I ain't and wasn't gonna shoot you, girl." She heard the man say before walking towards her.

Zenora let out a nervous gulp, taking a stride back before tripping over the deer and what was know a dead walker. Her chocolate brown eyes roamed over the black arrow with highlighter yellow tails decorating the tips. It was lodged directly into the side of the walkers head.

_He saved me..._ She thought, watching as he snatched the arrow out of the walker's head, reload it into his crossbow and shoot it in the same spot again.

He spat on the dead walker, taking the arrow out before wiping the bloody residues on it's tattered clothing. "Good riddance, _geek_. Messing around over ma' food." He shook his head at the sight of Zenora Brown, shaking a bit and then took the arrow out of the deer's neck, repeating his last process.

Her chocolate brown eyes roamed over the blood pouring out of the dead walker's mouth and then to the intestines and guts pried and ripped from the deer's stomach. "Damn that _nigga_ musta' been hungry. He ravaged all the food..." She said in between a frown. "Poor deer. And poor me. No food now..."

"_Nigga_?" The redneck mumbled, giving her a look of subtle confusion. He rested his crossbow over his shoulder, pointing a suspecting finger at the light skinned female perched on the grassy, dirt grounds. "That there... was my deer."

He kicked the side of the dead walker with the tip of his boot. "And this asshole fucked it up!"

_His deer?_ Zenora thought with a grimace on her face. _I'm the one who caught that shit fair and square. _

His attention was off of the walker and back to her. "So... talking about your own kind, huh?"

Finally standing up, the light skinned woman's lips formed a scowl and she stood up, letting her hands rest on her hips. She leaned all of her weight on one leg, snapping her head forward like a typical sassy subject. "_Is_ you dumb... or _is_ you stupid?" -

"I ain't neither because I know I ain't blind and my eyes do see the nappy hair and brown skin, **nigger**." He sneered back, anger laced in his southern tone. "You just called that damn geek a nigger, and ain't that what you is?"

Her hands left her hips and she crossed them over her chest. "Zenora Brown is my birth name and I know for a_ fact _that I ain't no nigga and ain't no dead man who rose up again."

"That don't answer my question, lady." He simply said, crossbow off of his shoulder and back pointed at her.

"What the hell are you doin'? I thought we already established that me and you is on the same side!" - "I told you my name so why don't you put that damn thing down and spit yours out?!" Zenora found herself grabbing her frying pan again, not having a care that she was in his line of fire.

"Daryl Dixon." He quickly said as if venom burned his mouth. "Now shut up and ya' better come with me..."

"To where, _cracker_. To where?" She bellowed to him, with furrowed eyebrows and raised arms that fell back down to her sides.

Zenora Brown's eyes narrowed into slits as she noticed his finger itch on the bow's trigger. "Watch it girl..." - "And I gotta camp set up. The others will know what to do with you."

That thought raced through her mind._ Others.._. _There are others...?_ With a hopeful smile tugging on her slightly chapped lips, Zenora let her tongue slightly graze over the two pieces of thin flesh, moisturizing them a bit. She didn't hesitate to follow him, even with the crossbow pointed in the direction of her head.

"Lead the way, _redneck-nigga_!" She beamed, laughing for the first time in so long at the look of disgust yet amusement that flashed on his face.

.

.

"We sent you hunt and you come back with a _nigger_?" - "I mean I never had dark meat before but I guess it's a start to somethin' new in this fucked up world we now livin' in, huh Daryl?" Daryl's older brother smirked, crossing his arms over his muscular and broad chest at the sight of his younger brother waltzing into camp with the African American woman, Zenora Brown.

"Shut up Merle. Some damn geek started eatin the shit out of the deer I tracked. A real big and juicy one! Meat that coulda lasted us for days, man. And then this one," he spat, pointing to Zenora with his crossbow. "She claimed it was her deer. But last time I checked, I'm the one whose been tracking 'em for the longest! She didn't smell his shit, she didn't scamper for his hoof prints!"

Merle rolled his light blue eyes and nodded his head mockingly at his little brother. "I see, brother. I see." He turned to Zenora. "Now, _Chocolate Drop_, what are you gonna do to appease _me,_ _my brother_ and all the other _hunkies _living in this here camp. Hm?"

Zenora had her hands placed on her hips once again. Her eyes roamed over Daryl Dixon, whom she just met in the woods, his other brother Merle Dixon, who was pissing her off and the set up camp surrounding them. Different tents were perched on the ground. A giant RV rested in the middle of the entire camp and she could tell by the way it was all set up in the middle of a large clearing, it was possibly a safe place.

But _still_.

"I ain't ask to be here in the first place..." She trailed off, shifting uncomfortably at the way both Dixon brothers stared at her as if they could peer right into her soul.

Before another word could be exchanged between the three of them, "What the hell is going on here?" - "Merle? Daryl? Where's the food we sent y'all to huntin'?"

Merle smirked deviously and pointed to Zenora. "Why don't ya ask _Chocolate Drops_ here, Shane?" - "Daryl is the one who came back with _that_ instead of the deer."

As if the wind was knocked right out of her, the light skinned woman nearly collapsed on the ground. Her arms protectively hovered over the side of her stomach where her healed wounds lay. "Sh-Shane?" She managed to get out, through gritted teeth.

At the sound of her light, yet southern and fierce voice, Shane Walsh halted and nearly jumped at seeing _her_ again. His sudden shocked expression turned to pure anger and he dashed over to her, seething in her ear, "Shit. What the hell are you doing here?"

Shane grabbed her arm, yanking her in place to stand in front of him and caughing her to wince and attempted to be released from his tight grasp. "Did you _follow _us, huh? Because I **swear.** I _won't _hesitate to ki-"

"Get them hands off of me, Shane." - "I got here no thanks to you and Lori." She fired back, trying to snatch her arm out of his grasp. Her attempts left him pinning both arms, painfully behind her back. He didn't give a care about any of the ruckus he was causing at the moment as she struggled to be released.

"G-Get off me!" She yelled at the top of her lungs, only to be stifled with a slap to her face from Shane.

"You think I'm letting you walk free and join us? Bitch, you got another thing coming! You and your dumb pals shot my buddy, Rick! Y'all caused him to go in a coma!" Shane angrily retorted, while glaring at the different people who started to gather around where they were.

The situation was fast out of control when Zenora sunk her teeth into his clothed shoulder, as a way of defense. He let out a scream, letting her go and she immediately grasped her frying pan, banging it on his other shoulder.

Shane hit the ground, and instead of getting back up, he swooped a leg under hers, making the light skinned woman drop her melee weapon and hit the ground along with him. He scrambled on top of her, delivering a punch to her lower abdomen, smirking at the sight of her pain.

He raised a fist to punch her again but halted at the sight of a crossbow pointed directly at his head.

"Get off her, man. Ya' don't ever hit no woman unless she one of them geeks we all gonna' have to start killin' to live." Surprisingly Daryl Dixon found himself saying.

"Yes, Shane. Daryl is right. We all sinned but we all have a right to live." A burly old man came, inching forward to the estranged police officer. He slowly raised his hands and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Release the young girl, please."

"This ain't nobody's business but mine, Daryl and Dale. So just mine ya' own!" Shane simply said, seeming to be calm.

"Get off her or I'll shoot, Shane. We ain't got nothing to los-"

"Woah, woah, woah!" Merle stepped forward. He let out a hard cough but then broke out into a long chuckle, startling everyone who watched the scene laid out before them.

"Last time I checked... we all had jobs to do over here. You got my brother standing up for this negro woman and you got me and everybody else up in here starving and craving some damn deer meat." Merle espied, narrowing his eyes at Shane. He gently pushed him off of the trembling Zenora, smiling wistfully as she flinched when he yanked her to her feet.

"Save this teary reunion for later and let's get to feeding these and my hungry mouths." Merle clapped as the sudden tension was dropped and a slightly cheerful mood began to spread once Shane gave a final glare to the light skinned woman and stalked off to some other part of the camp.

"Chocolate drop." He exclaimed, catching the attention of the African American woman. "You owe us for saving yer' ass. So _you'll_ be the one huntin' our next meal. I'll be sure to use your black ass for bait if it comes down to it."

She quickly wiped a tear from her eye and as if nothing never happened before and Shane didn't just try to hurt her, she held her head up high, back to her naturally strong -willed attitude. "My name ain't no _Chocolate Drop_. Zenora Brown is it, and redneck-nigga's older brother... You is **such **a pig."

Merle simply smiled at her closing remark. "_Oink, oink_ baby."

**A/N:**

**Okay, finshed.**

**Was this worth the read? I'd love and I crave to know.**

**Were either characters in place? Did you like it? Love it? Hate it? Needs work? Wanna flame me? Enlighten me with your words, praise, criticism and flames/whatnot. **

**As a writer, we wanna know these things.**

**So, you all know how some people in **_**The Walking Dead**_** have their own term for walkers, such a geek, and all that good jive? **

**Zenora has her own, which is "nigga". Not racial slur, **_**nigger**_**, but term that most use as homeboy when it actually means ignorant; nigga. Not nigg-ER, but nigg-AH.**

**I the first term and despise it being used but nigga an exception for it meaning "ignorant person".**

**Idk, it just ended up being typed along with the story. I occasionally will change it with something else, so some people don't find it offensive.**

**Anywho, please review. And I will answer any question needed to be asked in my next update.**

**Thanks For Reading!**

**Kumi-Chan/Tobi-Is-Fluffy-Chan**


	5. No Room For Doubt

**Hey guys! Here is the next update. It's so late, I know... And I'm sorry. I wouldn't call it writer's block... just writer's laze.**

**Thanks soooooooo much to my reviewers. I love you all and please keep them coming. Thanks to those who favorites and alerts as well.**

**We learn some snippets about Zenora's hard life in this chapter.**

**Rated for language, violence, racial slurs and upcoming sexual situations.**

**Also, I want to say that this when this story is written in Zenora's POV, that I'm trying to portray Zenora narrating. She's southern so imagine a southerner talking. Their accents are different; I know because I've lived in Georgia myself. So don't think there are a lot of grammatical errors. It's Zenora's POV.**

**Disclaimers: Walking Dead ain't mind... And so isn't Norman Reedus and his character Daryl Dixon. SIGH. We can all dream, right? **

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><p>Chapter 5: No Room For Doubt<p>

"Right now isn't the best time to go hunting." The old man named Dale came towards me. He was wearing a fishing hat with a rifle slung over his shoulder and place a comforting hand on my elbow.

I fought the urge to shrug it off, just narrowing my eyes instead. "Are you okay, Zenora?" He asked, his bushy, gray eyebrows furrowing and his dark brown eyes lighting up with a bit of concern.

My eyes darted to the spot where the Dixon brothers once stood. They hogged tail and was gone.

I suck in a breath of air, slightly wincing at the sharp pain coming from my lower abdomen. Shane was something... attacking me like that...

And _still_ managed to accuse me of shooting some friend of his named Rick.

"Zenora?" Dale's voice trails off, as one of them eyebrows of his raised slowly.

I shake my head, before nodding. "Sorry. I was just thinking 'bout something." I tell him, forcing my lips to tug into a small smile. "But thanks for the concern."

Dale smiled and rubbed my elbow before letting his hand drop back to his side. "Don't worry about Shane... he can be a-"

"Nigga?" I snap. "_Asshole_?" - "Piece of-"

My anger is flared at the mention of his name and it's poked at when the brunette named Lori trotted over to us. "Do you mind keeping your voice down?" She questions, glaring at me. It sounded more like a command...

"Excuse me?" I place a hand on my hip.

Lori stepped forward. "Keep your mouth shut. We don't need the likes of you and your foul mouth polluting the minds of the children 'round here. You aren't even welcome in the first place, but we're nice enough-"

I rolled my eyes at her, stepping more closer so that we was face to face. "_We_? Who the hell is _we_, Lori?" I didn't give her a chance to even respond before I snapped, "Because all I fuckin' see is _you_." - "You don't even know me and yet you come over here with this _we nice enough to let you stay here_ bullshit. Girl if you don't go somewhere."

And just like that I turned my back to her, facing the only man who seemed to have some sense up in here. I pinch the bridge of my nose, sighing heavily when I hear Lori's feet pitter-and-patter across the gravel-rock dirt and pavements, signaling that she was shut down and decided to leave.

"Sorry about that, Dale." I sigh, scratching the nape of my neck. The old man didn't seem to mind about the little attitude I just showed him, and instead chose to wave me off with a hand. "Now, why'd you say it ain't the best time to be hunting?"

He nodded his head, pointing to the sky. "Well, you see... the sun will be setting pretty soon and it will be dark before you can even snap your fingers..."

I snicker, covering my mouth at that last part. Did he assume just because I was black and had a little attitude, that I'd be snappin' my fingers?

"Figure of speech." He stated, realizing how what he just said kind of came out the wrong way. "Anyways, as you know those... _walkers_... are pretty dangerous at night. They seem to be more active during the night time, so I suggest in the morning, being the most opportune time."

I nod, not wanting to refuse him, myself; let's face it. I wasn't ready to be getting out there and hunting for these people... not just yet.

"Well, thanks." - "I suggest you talk it over with your peoples first... so, _you know_... they don't think I'm a free-loader or something."

Dale gave me a nod before rubbing my shoulder comfortably and walking off to some random part of the camp. I sigh, scratching my head full of thick, light brown hair that was pulled back into a ponytail.

Even when it seemed to be the end of the world, you still couldn't help but feel out of place in a camp full of men, women _and_ children that you didn't know. I didn't want to go follow Dale around since he seemed to be the only nice person around here...

My eyes darted to the left when I saw one of the Dixon brothers leaving from a large blue tent. "What you lookin' at?" He beckoned to me, rolling his sharp, blue eyes. It was Daryl Dixon; I sprinted over to him, following where ever the hell he was going.

"I'm bored and I don't know nobody but you and your pig of a brother." I flat out said, shrugging my shoulders when he scowled at me.

"This ain't the old days where the slave follows the master, girl." Daryl seethed, sitting down on a disgarded log, near the outskirts of the grass and gravel clearing the camp was set up at.

I roll my eyes at his assessment, taking seat right next to him. "Well excuse me, redneck." I ignore the protruding side-glare he gave me, as he grasped a hunting knife slid in his boot and started sharpening the tips of a bundle of twigs and tree branches I just now notices he was carrying.

"I don't think you'd be fit enough to be my master in the first place."

When he scoffed and shook his head, I chirped in a sing-song voice, "Don't toot yer' horn, sweet-pea. You not all that, you know."

"Go talk to somebody else or something." He sighed, clearly annoyed by my presence

"I just wanted to thank you for what you did back there, geez." I got up, shrugging my shoulders, starting to slowly walk through the camp.

I wasn't sure if I was hearing straight, but I knew from the way I suddenly started smiling... that I heard him shout, "Yer' welcome!"

.

.

.

I was introduced to a pair of blonde sisters, by Dale; Amy and Andrea. Then they introduced me to the Morales family. A Hispanic man named Carlos with his wife and cute, little girl. They all seemed nice enough.

What really made me happy was the fact that I wasn't the only black person around; I met a muscle-guy named T-Dog and a black woman named Jacqui. Both real nice and understanding of me feeling a bit out of place.

"Just come hang with me if you ever feeling like that." T-Dog chimed, slapping me playfully on the back.

I was now walking and talking with Jacqui, listening to her as she told me what everyone did around the camp. Of, course the women did the laundry up at the mouth of a large river; the men handled killing any stray _niggas_ and everyone else just pitched in whether it came to finding food, going on "runs" to find extra supplies and just making sure no one got out of line... _Shane and me_ being the prime example of what she meant by that.

By the time I realized it, it was night time, just as Dale had predicted. I noticed the sun setting and didn't even get the chance to _snap my fingers_. I heard a small ringing bell and this cute, Asian boy named Glenn grinned, "Dinner time," He chimed. "I'm _so_ starving."

Everyone was taking their seats around the fire that asshole-Shane got to making; they was all laughing and talking like a normal family... yet then there was _me_. I knew no one; well not as well as everyone else seemed to know each other. _Still_ Glenn began pulling me forward even with my protests and soon enough I had found myself sitting among the group between Dale and Jacqui.

They offered me a small plate as I tucked my legs underneath me, relaxing for the first time in days and enjoying the warm, relaxing crackle of the fire.

I began eating the small pieces of meat as everyone was talking with one another but I stared into the distance, trying my best to ignore the damn looks Shane was giving me; I just had to sit right across from him... even over the fire you'd still notice his narrowed eyes burning holes through ya'. Lori... she was focused on her little boy named Carl and I could tell she was trying her best not to even notice me; she kept looking down.

"Alright, everyone." Dale announced. When I felt him touch my shoulder and smile broadly at me, I wanted to throw this plate of food and hog tail. "We have a new addition to our little _salvation army_." A few of the people around us laughed at the little joke he said, but I sighed.

My eyes roamed around slowly to see everyone already looking at me with eager and expectant expression on all they faces as if they were all set on getting to know me; the newest member of the group.

The thing is... I didn't really want to talk about myself because then I'd be forced to share personal information... things I still needed to work around accepting myself... And I still felt like I didn't belong here. Was I really gonna' stay after all of this?

I looked down at the plate of food I held in my hands. A pile of brown rice, pieces of meat and boiled carrots. This was damn there the best that I ate in... God knows how long! I knew there was no way around the questions so I might as well get 'em over with.

I sat up straight and forced a smile, turning to Dale, "What you wanna' know?"

Everyone remained silent considering the questions to ask me. The possibilities seemed to be endless with this group but I guess I shouldn't have cared. I just wanted to get these questions with over as quickly as possible. I'd answer each question with a straight face and simple answer. Maybe a _yes_ and _no_ fashion.

"What's your story?" Andrea suggested, earning small nods from some of the people around the fire.

"My story..." I confirmed, receiving a nod from Andrea and her sister. I noticed the way the Dixon brothers halted their eating and although Daryl seemed to be interested, he tried _and_ failed to hide it. Merle... He acknowledged me but kept shoving fork-fulls of rice in his mouth, even scooping up the strays that fell on the ground and on his pants.

"She ain't got no story." Shane blurred out and then poked around the fire with a small stick, "Except criminal acts. Ain't that right, Zenora?" He asked in a hard tone.

"Not cool, man." Glenn sighed, giving me a look of sympathy.

"Yeah, Shane." Amy backed him up.

I didn't even feel the need to be angry or pissed with Shane as I fell silent staring at my hands. Who was I? Was I completely different from the Zenora before the coma and the world changing? I felt different... so maybe I was. I know I had a hard life in the world before all these _niggas_ began rising up from the dead... but was I ready to go back to the dark past before? What the hell was I doing with the Hernandez family that day I got shot? What the hell was I thinking?

I swallowed slowly before looking up to meet the several eyes of people around the campfire, "Well my name is Zenora Brown and I'm from Cordele, Georgia," I said. "A small little town that _seemed_ peaceful at first."

"You mean with the apocalypse starting?" Little boy named Carl blurted out, trying not to notice the expression his mother gave him.

I smiled fondly at the boy and was impressed by his good demeanor; he wasn't as mean as his momma'.

I shake my head. "Well _no_, sweet-pea." - "It was a drug-craze going on in that small town. I got involved with all types of people... different types of drugs..." I trailed, licking my lips a bit. "So before I was even 15-years-old, momma' had chose to relocate me to some other town, closer to Atlanta."

I guess I had no choice but to open up to all these things.

"Of course," I sighed, letting a shrug play on my shoulders. "I got into some trouble there, too. It seemed to follow me, every where."

Everyone nodded at my statement.

"Well, we all have made mistakes..." T-Dog smirked, shaking his head. "I know I have."

Before I could get out another word, Shane cut me off.

"What did I tell y'all?" The dark haired man laughed, shaking his head at me. "A complete druggie. Lori-" He turned to face the brunette woman. "You gonna' let some druggie around your son? Carol, Carlos and anyone else with kids-"

He didn't know when to quit, man. "Damn it, Shane." I breath, wiping a tear from the corner of my eye. "You is so cold to me. _Nigga_-" I pause. "I don't even _know_ you. And you don't even know _me_. Can I finish telling them and **educating** you on my life, or is you just gonna keep on making assumptions because you is hooked on the fact that I supposedly shot your friend Rick?"

I reached in my back pocket, taking out the folded picture of Rick, his wife Lori and his son, Carl. I tossed it at the brunette. "I found that back at your house. Thought I'd hold onto it." She unfolded the picture, gasping and gazed at me with tears forming in her eyes.

"Mom... I thought..." Carl started to say, taking the picture from her. "This was my dad's favorite picture." He passed it to Carol's little girl named Sophia and she passed it to her mother, who reluctantly took it, giving a side glance to her grumbling husband, Ed. The photo was passed around the entire group of survivors, until it reached Shane, who only nodded his head at the photo and then gave it back to Lori.

"I dunno' why I held onto it." I admit. "I found it when y'all left me there and after I had to kill these two _niggas_ that came and attacked me."

Andrea leaned forward, pursing her lips. "I'm sorry, but... _niggas_?" She winced when the word slipped out her mouth.

"That's what she likes to call 'em."

All eyes including mine turned to look at Daryl Dixon. He obviously didn't like all the attention he was now receiving and even narrowed his eyes when he noticed the smug smile playing on my lips. I even thought I noticed his cheeks turn red over the light emitting from the fire.

"Finish up with that story, _Chocolate Drop_." Merle said in between chews. "I'm ready to fuckin' hit the sack." He ignored the scowls that the parents amount the group gave him.

Without a second thought, I went on. "As T-Dog said... we all made our mistakes. To make a long story short, I got into _a lot_ of trouble. Did _a lot_... of drugs. And messed around with a lot of bad people. Some of them people were the infamous Diaz brothers and their groups of people. I... was at my waterloo about a month ago." - "Desperate for drugs... depressed and I felt oppressed by the man. So I started dating one of the Diaz brothers. _Big Tito_ was his nickname."

I pause, quickly taking in a deep breath and then slowly releasing it. "He supplied me with the substantial drugs I needed to feel better about myself. And that one day, he was about to do a big deal. I tagged along, and _boy_ was it a mistake..."

I licked my lips, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "There was this high speed chase with the cops and everything. And I distinctly remember telling him, _when this is all over... I'm through. I'm through with living this life. Dating a damn drug dealer and criminal... being a druggie. I got things and people I need to do. I got a baby that I need to get and love_."

"But as you know, sometimes we make decisions a little too late. The car crashes, I was injured, almost died from blood-loss and there was a shootout going down. The cops was winning. I saw some of his boys on the ground dead and when I got out the car before I could surrender, I was _shot_." Carol winced when I put emphasis on the word _'shot'_.

She gathered up Sophia and followed Ed when her husband snapped at her to follow him and leave the group. She gave a sympathetic look to me and the group, and sighed heavily shaking her head when her daughter silently protested wanting to leave. "We don't go no time doe no tall tales." Ed sassed, forcefully yanking his wife forward.

It was silent before Carlos' wife motioned for me to continue. She gave her husband's hand a tight squeeze as the girl started wrapping up her story. "Well, that's what I remember happening because afterwards I woke up from a coma... to this world we livin' in now."

"Did you lose anyone important?" Andrea was first to say, looking sadly at her sister and then to the old man, Dale.

I nodded. "Yeah." Then hugged my knees to my chest, shifting uncomfortably at the question. "I was once a mother... Your guess is as good as mine... he's probably gone." - "The family that adopted him relocated to Illinois. A rich, white family... the woman was a doctor and her husband a lawyer."

I let a tear fall from her eye. "I never thought back this far, you know." - "It took a lot to share this..."

Jacqui gave me a warm hug. "I kmow for sure... that I'm glad you did."

**A/N:**

**Okay, that was her back story. My character is inspired from Halle Barry, of course and one of the old movies she played in called **_**Losing Isaiah.**_

**A really good ass movie, made me kinda cry. Don't be too sympathetic of Zenora, though. **

**How was this chappie? I hope my character isn't a little too much for some people... and I also hope it didn't such **_**that**_** much. I'm already working on the next chapter and it should be out in a couple of days. **

**R.I.P to Beth, even though I kind still want Daryl Dixon for myself, hence this story and I'm definitely waiting on the rest of the episodes to get going.**

**Thanks for Reading!**

**(please review and let me know what you all think... I must know.)**

**Kumi-Chan/Tobi-Is-Fluffy-Chan**


	6. Heart of Gold

**So, I am so amazed at the great responses I have been getting from this story! I'm so glad everyone reading is appreciating Zenora for who she is and what she has been through.**

**Thanks SO much for reviewing! I can't twerk for shit, but I swear I was when I saw those numbers rise up. Thanks alot, and it really warmed my spirit!**

**Thanks to my many Guest reviews, Darkness-Will-Come and also prettyprincess45!**

**I hope you all like this update!**

**Rated for violence, racial slurs, language, Merle's racist and foul mouth, and lastly upcoming sexual situations.**

**Disclaimers: I want Daryl as mine, hence me writing this story. Sadly however, The Walking Dead ain't mine, y'all. **

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><p>Chapter 6: Heart of Gold<p>

"Would you stop getting in ma' way?" The redneck slurred, rolling his sharp blue eyes as he kneeled down, slinging his crossbow over his shoulder and took a whiff of the air, eyeing a pair of hooved-prints.

Zenora simply huffed, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning all of her weight on one leg. "Well, you acting like I wanted to come huntin' with you!"

Daryl Dixon gave her a wave with the back of his hand, before pressing on through a cut of thick underbrush. "Just stay outta' my way, girl." - "Can you comprehend that?"

"Mm." She grunted, rolling her eyes before taking a step over next to him. She watched as he dipped two of his fingers in the scattered feces of the deer they had started tracking just about thirty minutes ago. Zenora kneeled down as well, almost bumping her knee in the large mound of foul-smelling poo, until the Dixon brother let out a heavy sigh filled with annoyance, grabbing the collar of her plaid shirt.

With a forceful tug, she was back to her feet. "Let's get moving girl-"

"Zenora."

Daryl stopped his his tracks, swinging his crossbow over his shoulder and letting a hand fall to his hip. He inched his head forward, squinting his blue eyes. "What?"

Licking her lips, the light skinned woman stepped over the pile of deer-feces, nodding her head and looking into his eyes as if he was _slow_. "_My_." - "Name. Is. Ze-NORA." When Daryl rolled his eyes and kissed his teeth, she burst out in a light chuckle as he walked away hot with annoyance and anger.

"I ain't stupid!" She could hear him yell from a far, as she continued to laugh while attempting to catch up to him.

The pair continued their hunt for a wild buck that strayed far enough to make a run through the camp; the animal even ate a couple of the provisions the group of survivors had got to storing away for emergencies.

Zenora sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose. She had grew tired of tracking the animal which always slipped from their grasp each and every time, straying away miles and miles from where the camp was set up at.

"Can't we just go find somethin' else to hunt, Daryl?" The light skinned woman huffed, placing her hands on her hips.

The youngest Dixon brother snorted, shaking his head at the complaining woman.

"See, that's what's wrong with y'all women, today."

"What?" - "What's wrong with us women, huh?" Zenora rolled her eyes, waiting for a response from the redneck.

"Y'all bitches are always complaining. Simple."

"Oh yeah?!"

"Yeah." He nodded, loading an arrow into his crossbow, before releasing it to shoot a squirrel. Zenora watched with a scowl on his face as he snatched the arrow from the small animal's dead carcass, collecting it in his firm and calloused hands as the squirrel fell from the tree it was pinned against.

"Us men bring all the food to the table." Daryl teased, waving the dead squirrel in Zenora's face, to which she swatted his hand away.

"Get that shit outta' my face."

"Proves alot, huh?" He smirked, attaching the dead squirrel to a string that he clipped to his belt. "My brother and I survived off squirrel meat for years, _Ze_-Nora," the red neck sighed, putting emphasis on the beginning of her name.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yep, woman." - "We already 'stablisbed this."

"Well I bet I know one thing y'all Dixons ain't good at."

"And what's that?"

"Pleasing a lady."

When Daryl turned beet red, Zenora knew she struck a nerve.

Zenora's POV

I shook my head, when he waved me off once more. "No wonder the both of y'all stank so much." - "Eatin' squirrels and shit."

That comeback made a scowl form in the features of his face, I simply shrugged it off, twirling the handle of my frying pan around. Daryl opened his mouth to say something slick I bet but he was silent, automatically loading an arrow into his weapon. He motioned for me to duck and once I did, that arrow went flying fast with speed into the neck of one of them _niggas_.

Before more could be said, the sounds of low growls were heard. Daryl yanked me up to my feet, giving me a look that read _they is coming. _

_Zenora be ready... _I let out a heavy sigh, tightly gripping the plastic handle of my iron frying pan. When we both heard the sound of a small crackle in a nearby bush, we both had ourselves ready for what ever the hell was about to come.

Out of the bush came four walkers. Daryl easily loaded an arrow into his crossbrow, impaling one of them in the head. He then slung his crossbow over his shoulder, grabbing a large tree branch, swinging the makeshift club at the rotting head of the undead man.

I slightly winced at the blunt crack echoing through my ears as the branch connected with the side of the _nigga's_ head, the striking sound of bones splitting.

I had no time to praise him, because of them _niggas_ came charging at me!

Blowing a loose strand of hair from my face, I grasped the handle of my frying pan, bending my knees and raising my arms as if I was a batter on the baseball field. At the right moment, I swung my pan like a bat, smirking when it hit the _nigga_ dead square in the face.

Another sound followed; the dull _thud_ as the dead weight dropped to the grounds of the lush, Georgia forest. With a strangled cry, I brought the pan down a few more times onto its head to make sure he was dead for real.

As his partner came oozing blood from his mouth, I was nearly knocked back at his arm swaying fleetly across my face. The force was overwhelming, making me drop my only weapon. Before the nigga could lunge at me, Daryl saved my black ass again, shooting an arrow right in his eye.

I immediately finished the job, grasping my frying pan and smashing it down on his head; particularly that damn arrow sticking out of his eye. The sounds of its skull crunching filled my ears and when all four walkers were down and dead all that was left when we was done was a mess of skull, oozing blood and chunks of brains and goop.

It was satisfying sight, as I knew them damn people wouldn't be getting up to try rip me to shreds any time soon. I felt myself heaving as I panted for breath, my limbs tired and weakened from the tedious work of beating the dead men down.

"You alright?" I heard Daryl breath, panting himself. I gave him a small nod, holding up one finger to let him know that I needed a minute or two.

I let out a heavy sigh, using both hands to scratch my itching scalp. I loosened the scrunchie holding my now frizzy hair in place. As I shook my head, letting my hair feel some of that good breeze blowing through the forest, I heard Daryl snicker.

Turning around to face him, I shrug my shoulders. "What?" I asked, looking into his eyes. He seemed a bit shocked for what reason, I don't fucking know, but I felt my lips curve into a grin at the way his cheeks turned pink.

"Is you blushing, Daryl?" I asked him, placing my heads on my hips and leaning forward.

"Wh-What the hell is you talking 'bout girl?" He ignored my smug looks, shaking his head and mumbling to his self as he started gathering his arrows lodged in the stank flesh of the dead _niggas_.

_Daryl sure was something_. I thought to myself, watching his do his usual routine. He was a dingy redneck; huntin' squirrels and shit, cleaning his arrows by simply wiping the excess blood on the back of his jeans; but it was kinda' cute. I shook my head at the thought. If the girls and hoes back at home found out that I thought a _redneck_ was at least cute, I'd be the laughingstock of the trap.

My thoughts were interrupted at the iron grasp on my shoulder. I was a bit confused at the moment, thinking Dale or Glenn followed us on the hunt or something, but that exact moment when a loud growl rang through my ears, I already knew it was one of _them_.

I knew I couldn't let out a scream, because just imagine if we killed four, and one came sneaking up on me. Imagine how many could be around in this one area!

"Daryl," I managed to squeak, while roughly elbowing the walker in the face. The tip of my elbow hit her in her milky eyes, causing the female _nigga_ to be pushed back a bit. The redneck's eyes widened when he saw that I was defenseless, due to me being stupid enough to drop my melee weapon, in order to catch my breath. Gritting his teeth, he jerked one of the arrows lodged into one of the walker's throats with one tug.

Daryl immediately stabbed the sharpened tip into her head causing her to fall. "Ugly ass bitch." He spat. "Give me ma' damn arrow back."

He tugged on it, causing me to wince at the sticky and slimy blood coating it. When Daryl held out his arms, waving me over with a nudge of his head, I reluctantly stumbled towards him. Slowly he wrapped his around my waist.

"Now, Ze-Nora. Let me ask ya' again... are you sure yer' alright?"

I was now calm, and shrugged out of his hold. "Yeah." - "I'm fine and I think we should get out of this area, it seems to be crawling with the niggas." Daryl's eyes were a bit soft, looking into mine for a moment before he gave me a solid nod.

"Thanks for having my back." I sighed, as we walking down a trail, leading to back to the camp.

He nodded, but rolled his eyes. "Maybe you should get a real weapon other than a damn frying pan, girl." - "I mean, it's only black people that's actually think it is a suitable weapon, man."

I smirked but rolled my eyes, crossing my arms over his chest. Daryl Dixon had a heart of gold when it came to danger and saving asses. But now, he was back to his usual racist, redneck self. And I didn't mind it.

.

.

.

"What the hell was that?" Merle asked his brother, quirking up a eyebrow as a scowl formed in the features of his face.

"We was nearly swarmed by them dead people, Merle." Daryl stared at his brother, ignoring the current cleaning he was giving to his older brother.

"And that fuckin' excuse still don't feed my empty stomach, dumbass." Merle stood up from the log he sat on as his eyes observed his brother's serious face. They then flickered to mine, glaring daggers into them. The oldest Dixon brother had a crazy look in his eyes, kind of making me feel uneasy. Daryl was the first to take a step forward. Merle did not move from his position as I followed close behind Daryl, ready to have his back like he had mine, in case anything went down.

"Look," he pointed area we had just came from. "It's fuckin' crawling with them geeks, man. They tried tuh' attack me and Ze-Nora here." He beckoned me with the nudge of his head.

"He ain't lying, Merle." I finally spoke, resting a hand on my hip. "Daryl had to save my ass twice in just one hunt, man. That buck..." I shook my head, thinking about the stupid animal and how I feel like it purposely lead me and Daryl into a trap. "that buck there... it musta' been long gone, 'cause we didn't find it. But he did getcha' some squirrels."

Merle snapped his mouth shut, rubbing his bald head as if he was trying to think of what I said. Maybe he had finally decided to lay off of Daryl's ass. We could go hunting again tomorrow and try to catch something else. Simple.

There wasn't no need to make a fuss over some fufu-lame bullshit. We had to survive in this broken world. Not kill each other over a damn animal we failed to hunt.

"Oh, shut the hell up, _nigger_." He snapped, clenching his fists. "You ain't got nothing to do with me and my God-damn brother." - "You was real lucky I felt awfully generous enough to stop Shane from whipping your black ass. Now _get_!" And just like that, he shooed me and Daryl away. Daryl ain't even stand his ground to that damn asshole Merle. He walked away as if it was nothing and stalked off to some random part of the camp... I looked like he walked a bit father away from the camp, isolating himself.

Furious as hell, I turned towards Merle wanting to give him a good beating. "You is the worst kind of human anyone could _ever_ meet." I slurred, punching his in his mouth. He stepped back, in shock of the amount of strength my right hook had.

He rubbed his aching chin, narrowing his eyes at me, before grabbing my frizzy hair, that I damned myself for forgetting to tie it back up. With a rough tug he had me on my knees.

"At least I ain't no little, mooching black bitch!" That did it and my arm flung. I balled my fist up, rucking my thumb behind my clench fingers, punching him in his lower regions. Merle didn't fall like I hoped he would, and instead released his painful grasp on my hair. He recovered from the blow, knocking me in the mouth just like I did to him. And like a coward, the racist redneck stomped my stomach in a few times until when Shane and Lori appeared out of nowhere, jolting me up.

"'Member last time you tried something like that, you was nearly killed." Shane held his arms around my built stomach, pulling me away from Merle.

"The both of you need to calm the hell down so we can figure out what exactly is goin' on about or damn food supply!" Lori yelled, helping me to my feet when I nearly stumbled over.

Merle stared into my glaring brown eyes with a grin upon his lips. "_Yeah_," - "Good idea, Lori. Now, can _we_ little sista'?"

Fuck him and fuck them.

"Whatever. Just let me go," I demanded. "And _yeah_, the last time it did happened, you was the one who nearly killed me." Shane released me and continued his investigation. I wasn't in the mood to stick around and hear his thoughts. I stormed off, more dramatically then usual.

"Bitch, get your ass back here," Shane called. "We was trying to help!"

Without taking another look at them, I spit blood from my mouth and then shouted, "Screw all of y'all."

**A/N:**

**Okay, I know Zenora has been getting into fights lately... I'm sorry for that XD she is a strong black woman with high emotions.**

**Next chappie officially starts to follow the plot of The Walking Dead, as our survivors go on the run to the deadly city of Atlanta.**

**Anywho, I hope you all liked this chappie. I wanted to add more, but I was focused on providing the new update, so I ended it earlier than I truly intended. Also, Daryl and Zenora's relationship won't be moving as fast as it seemed to be... Give it at least five or six chappies... give or take one.**

**Thanks For Reading! And please stay tooned for the next update! It gets even better than this!**

**Also, I don't want to ask for reviews, but what the hell, please review and let me know what you all think of what's going on so far!**

**Kumi-Chan/Tobi-Is-Fluffy-Chan**


	7. Massa'

**My reviewers are too sweet. I smiled when I read them and I am glad for the increases in alerts and favorites. I'm actually enjoying writing this story and I definitely enjoyed writing this new chapter for you all to read!**

**You all seem to like Zenora too and I'm happy for that :D**

**Anyways, please enjoy this chappie! It would have been much much longer but I didn't want to overcrowd it just yet... **

**Happy Reads!**

**Disclaimers: I cry myself to sleep because Daryl Dixon isn't mine and The Walking Dead ain't either. Hence the story and hence the fan fiction disclaimer.**

* * *

><p>Chapter 7: Massa'<p>

"Ouch!" I winced, glaring at the white woman with long and brunette hair. Lori rolled her eyes at me, continuing to dab the bleeding area around my mouth. Rubbing-Alcohol hurt like a bitch and she was being a bitch just by using it on me.

"The worst is over for now..." She heavily sighed, closing up the bottle of clear and strong-smelling liquids. "You've been getting into fights here, lately."

I roll my brown eyes. "Well thanks for followin' me and dragging my ass back to your tent just for this." I pointed to the stinging sensation on my now quivering top lip. She gave me a small smile, shaking her head.

"Open your mouth, please."

My eyebrows furrowed. I know I wasn't the _brightest, brightest_ person in the world but I sure as hell knew that you couldn't put no rubbing-alcohol up in your mouth... it was a health-risk. I move my face away from the alcohol-soaked cotton swab she held in her hands.

"Is you trying tuh' kill me?" I questioned in a high tone, hearing the southern drawl in my soprano-sounding voice. I watched with wary eyes as Lori tossed the cotton swab to some random part of her tent, just as she then held up her hands like she was surrendering.

Okay... so she wasn't no harm to me... but I had to be sure. The brunette reached in the small first-aid kit, pulling out a brown bottle.

"I was going to use this on your busted lip, Zenora." Lori held it up and I immediately untensed, cracking a girlish laugh.

"Ya' ever had that moment when you was using peroxide to gargle and it just started forming white foam in your mouth?" I found myself blurting out as I pursed my lips, making sure to pucker out the exact spot where the thin piece of flesh was busted and bruised with drops of my blood.

She dabbed a bit of the peroxide on my lip's wound, snickering at the way I squirmed as she used one hand to firmly hold my chin. "I remember one of them days when I still lived with my momma' and-" I paused to wince as she pressed a cutup to the small cut. "you know, when I was _stable_... or so she thought. But anyways- _Shit_!"

She abruptly stopped her actions and narrowed her eyes in a stern-motherly way.

Note to myself, avoid foul language around this crazy, motherly white woman... But, _hell_. It wasn't my fault peroxide stung worse than damn alcohol. I let out a sigh, quickly licking my slightly chapped lips before I let her continue tending to the bust. "My bad, Lori." I say, just now nothing that Carl was asleep and even with us.

A small tug of her lips and I knew I managed to tame her small yet quick-to-happen anger, so I continued on with my little flashback.

"Anyways, as I was saying; I was running 'round the street with my friends, right-" I made sure she was listenin'; didn't wanna be telling my story to deaf ears. "so, I fell _real, real_ hard on my knees and cried like a lil' baby. And momma' came out raising hell, because money was tight and we was saving up to move somewhere else." - "And instead of taking me to a clinic or something, she grabbed a bottle of peroxide and just flushed the giant scrape with that shi- _stuff_."

Lori closed up the bottle, nodding her head. I didn't even need to finish because she was well aware of what I was gonna say next. Her white ass probably knew how bad it stung. A sigh escaped between them lips of hers as she reached behind her, grasping a clean and white tank top.

She held it out to me.

My eyebrows knit together as my hand mechanically reached out at her offering. My fingertips touched the soft fabrics of the shirt and I pulled back. I ain't need no charity. "Just because you helped with _this_ don't make me and you friends." I was referring the small bandage plastered on a cut under my eye and the cleaned wound above my top lip and the newly-cleaned bust poking out from the inside of my bottom lip.

She nodded.

"I don't need no charity. I'll just be fine with these here clothes that I got on right now."

The brunette scratched the tip of her aristocrat-pointed nose and looked down at the thick socks covering her feet. She held out the shirt once again. "Look, I know me and you haven't exactly been on good terms-"

"You told me just yesterday that I wasn't welcomed here and you left me to them _niggas_ back in town... at your own house."

"I know..." - "At least help me feel a little more humane by offering you a clean shirt." She looked up at me now. "It's the cleanest one that I have and I'd feel horrible letting you walk around in that bloodied, oversized shirt."

Well, damn. No need to point of my post-apocalypse flaws... _Shit, she acting like I can just go to a Gucci store and dress in the latest fashions or something_; I snicker to myself at my thoughts, which makes her raise an eyebrow.

Fashion was probably as good as dead like the rest of them _niggas_ in the world now.

Regardless, I take the shirt. I quickly unbuttoned the baggy-plaid shirt that I wouldn't had tied in the front; Georgia was hot during the day. _Hot as hell._

Judging by my sense of character and my current priorities set on surviving this shit, I most definitely would have never noticed the drops of blood littering the plaid shirt. I shoved it past my shoulders, tucking it in the loops of the high waisted jeans that I wore, tying it like a belt; all while ignoring Lori's small glances at me before pulling the tank top over my head and down my stomach.

_Smelled like lilac._

Kind of refreshing to know clothes could still smell this good even if there probably was a small line of laundry mats working now and the world was most-likely, officially over.

When I caught Lori looking at me again as I smoothed over a wrinkle, I rolled my eyes feeling quite annoyed. "What you looking at?" I had to ask, untucking my legs from underneath my bottom in order to criss-crossing them over each other.

Her cheeks tinted pink and she twiddled her thumbs. "It's just that..."

_Don't tell me she a lesbian or something._ I mentally kicked myself for automatically jumping to conclusions. Besides... I know I didn't roll that way and had nothing against it.

"I just thought you'd want to wash up or something." Lori quickly sighed, like she just disassembled a bomb.

_Oh_.

"Huh?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I thought you'd want to wash up. There's a nice clean river just up the trail. I thought Jacqui showed it to ya'."

She did. I just never really thought about it. First I had to obviously get settled. Bathing definitely needed to come in between. Probably smelled like sweat or worse.

I nod, giving her a small smile. "Yeah, you right."

Lori was quiet before she started packing up her little medical kit. We crawled out of her tent and she helped me to my feet. Once we was out, we was greeted by the two blonde sisters and Jacqui.

"Hey, girl are you alright?" Jacqui asked, concern laced into her tone as they all rushed over to us.

I plastered a small smile on my face. "Yeah, I'm a strong girl." Was that a lie? _Partly_. I knew I would break eventually. No one could last through this forever. "It'll take more than a few kicks, punches and scratches to get me down."

Amy smiled warmly at my comment, giving me a small hug. She gave a glare to Andrea, shaking her head before marching back to her spot next to her sister. "I swear, guys are _such_ brutes."

She wasn't lying about that.

Andrea placed a comforting hand on her shoulder but the small blonde shrugged it off. "It's not okay for guys to just go beating up on the poor girl! Specially Merle and Shane."

I could have swore I saw Lori's fists clench at the mention of them but I shrugged it off. What she had with Merle? She hated his guts. With Shane?... Eh. Maybe her fists was just itching.

_Great_. Seems like words spread real, real fast up in this here camp. I let out a sigh, scratching the nape of my neck as the two blonde sisters bickered back and forth.

Amy pissed at the male-population.

Andrea defending them partly and claiming her sister just needed to _get_ with one. And by that she meant fuckin'.

Then it all went like this.

Amy threw her head back as if she was _oh, so_ disgusted. Lori, Jacqui and I laughed at their sisterly love and at the realization of us still being present while they argued, they themselves laughed and they made up.

"Have any of y'all seen Glenn?" Lori eventually said, reaching in her tent to kick on her brown boots. "We're running _real_ low on supplies..."

Andrea sprung forward. "I thought we'd be good for another three weeks."

The brunette shook her head full of long hair. "I only have one more bottle of peroxide. Nearly had to scramble for a band-aid, got half a bottle of rubbing-alcohol and that buck the men were trying to track a couple days burned a whole in our rations of food. It can only last any longer."

These women seemed to understand the importance of the situation so they all began discussing about getting a big group to go on a run in the dangerous city of Atlanta.

Apparently, it was now overrun with _niggas_, galore.

The man ain't do nothing to help but bomb certain areas. And Dale's guess was that _it was only a certain amount of time until their attempts to get rid of the infected, sick people were futile and they'd fall during the fall._

Or so the old man said.

I honestly didn't wanna' be part of the little mission they had going on. I'd prefer hunting to going on a run, any day.

So as they called they little meeting, everyone who wanted to play hero went.

Glenn, cause he was fast and memorized routes in that big ass city like it was a board-game. Andrea cause she knew places that was good with supplies such as clothes, hygiene stuff and whatnot. Merle ol' bitch ass just because he didn't trust Daryl to _get 'er done_ as he said it. Carlos because he had a good sense of direction and wanted to help, even though he was leaving his little girl and wife behind.

And I thought they'd stop there but _boy,_ was I wrong! When I saw T-Dog and Jacqui step up I wanted to hold them both back. Should I say that since they were real nice to me and of course we saw eye to eye with them being black... that I considered them as good as family?

I kissed my teeth, crossing my arms over my chest when they prepared to leave by the morning. I shook my head. If y'all knew it was overrun then why even try? Be like the Dixons and eat squirrel meat for fucking sake.

Okay, who was I kidding? Even I wouldn't wanna' for the rest of the time. And this camp was big. More people who I never knew was set up in this area was present. More and more families.

I sighed as the meeting between our group- I mean _they_ group of survivors dispersed and they all went to settle for the night.

Me? I was gonna go wash up like the white man's woman named Lori suggested. Then I'd figure out that sleep and eat business.

But as I made my way with a bar of soap and towel that Glenn gave me, I couldn't help but feel obligated to pray for 'em all. Even Merle.

.

.

I swear, some people are just crazy. Some people are just assholes. Some people are just... _ignorant_. I'm pretty sure if I narrowed my eyes any further, then they'd probably rip in two; I'd have two pairs of ripped eyelids thanks to the dumbass nature of certain people; specifically _**rednecks**_.

I watched his slight muscled shoulders rise up and fall down into a shrug and then he gargled up a heaping amount of spit and chucked it far up in the bushes somewhere.

This one damn redneck was beginning to get on my nerve; and it wasn't Merle this time. It was his little brother, Daryl.

"I meant what I said." He slung his crossbow over his shoulder. "I ain't taking you huntin' with me until you get a better weapon than that fuckin' poor excuse for angry black people." Now usually I'd laugh at a joke made against black people just because... but, my anger was damn there seething.

"Now how you gonna' talk about being poor when you a redneck eating squirrel meat, yourself?" I had to slickly remark just to calm my pent up rage down a bit.

Daryl rolled them blue eyes of his, inching forward. He leaned toward me, damn there a few inches from my face.

"I meant what I said." He firmly told me.

Taking a step back, I glared down from him to the iron, frying pan I had tucked in the small space of one hand on my hip. What was so bad about it? Daryl Dixon said he wasn't blind. Shit, I even knew that but this was the only thing I had. He saw what it could do to them _niggas_.

I lean all of my weight on one leg, grasping the plastic tip of my pan in my hand. I waved it around, smiling at the _swooshing_ sound it gave off. I even slapped it against one of the tree barks, just to emphasize the brute force it could do.

I turned around just to see Daryl stalking off towards the woods.

_Mannnnnnnnnn_.

I should just knock him upside the head with my pan. Maybe that'll give him some darn sense. Leaping over a bush, I followed him down the trail leading deeper into the forest.

"Where I'm 'posed to find a weapon?" - "Is it gonna fall out the sky?"

Daryl held up a hand, meaning he needed to to be quiet, so I complied and watched as he crouched down, grabbing his crossbow. He peeked his eye through the little scope-lens and pulled the trigger, shooting an arrow.

The arrow slammed into the bark of a tree and the squirrel that he was trying to get, scampered away. I snickered at his loss until he turned around and stuck his middle finger up at me.

"Thanks to yer' big ass mouth, the damn thing got away!" He shouted, angrily stomping over to the tree and snatching his arrow out with a little forceful tug.

"Well, if you would'a just told me what I wanted to know then _maybe_ you'd have yourself a squirrel and me quiet." I snap back, placing a hand on my hip.

I heard him scoff, and watched as he shook his head. "I thought the slaves was supposed to listen to their masters."

"Well, back in the day we called 'em _massa'_, Daryl." - "You not a very good _massa'_ anyways. You supposed to provide for me."

He narrowed his eyes, loading his arrow back into his crossbow. He slung it over his shoulder with the leather strap and marched right over to me. I made my face serious as he looked me over, roaming his eyes up and down my body. "Make yer' own weapon."

_What the hell. This redneck must be crazy._ I thought to myself, furrowing my eyebrows.

"Huh?"

Daryl rolled his eyes. "Did I stutter?"

Well, damn.

.

.

.

_Regular POV_

Daryl Dixon watched with vigilant eyes as Zenora grasped his hunting knife with shaky hands. She picked up the long, large and bendy twig he found durable enough to be used for some good.

She slowly grazed her tongue over her lips, taking the knife and slowly skinning the rough edges of it. He sighed, when she nearly cut her own finger.

"First of all," he began, taking a seat right next to her and snatching the knife from her hands, while being careful not to cut her or himself in the process. "You holding ma' knife and cuttin' the branch wrong."

He firmly held the hilt of the small blade in his hand, using a finger to graze of the sharpened tip of it. "You gonna' end up cutting your own fingers, holding it like that." Daryl grabbed her hand and rubbed his thumb over the soft, smooth skin of her hand's palm.

He kissed his teeth. "_Figures_. Your skin is smooth like a baby's ass." He gave her the blade, ignoring the way he noticed her cheeks tint dark pink.

Zenora mimicked the way he held the hunting knife, holding it firmly in her hand. She gave him a side-glance before beginning to slowly skin the twig once more. She raised an eyebrow, turning to the youngest Dixon brother that had his slightly toned arms crossed over his chest. "Better?"

His thin lips formed a tight line before he shook his head. "Gotta' skin it quickly if you want the best results, _Ze_-Nora."

He took the twig and knife and began to fleetly run the blade across the rough bark, smirking to himself when the light skinned woman stared with widened eyes in awe.

She was impressed with his skills and he liked that.

"Okay!" She exclaimed, "Lemme' try now!" She took her materials back and tried mimicking his actions, only to receive partial success.

"Yeah." Daryl sighed, picking at the small pecks of dirt underneath the bed of his fingernails. "It takes years of practice to get it like mine."

The light skinned woman snickered to herself, licking her lips once more. "Is you trying to tease me, redneck?"

Daryl genuinely smiled, shrugging his shoulders. "And what if I am?" - "Whatcha' gonna do about it?"

The look on Daryl's face was priceless when Zenora swatted him on the arm with the twig. It was even more priceless when she got up, running away from the camp with a smug expression engraved in the features of her face. It took him a few seconds to come to as he scrambled up on his feet, chasing her.

It was like an amusing game of cat-and-mouse. Who was the cat? And who was the mouse? Let it be ambiguous.

The light skinned woman jumped her over a log and hid behind it. She quietly giggled to herself, listening attentively for any sign that he was coming through. After a few minutes of only hearing the natural sounds of nature, she slowly peeked up, gasping when the redneck tackled her to the ground.

He landed right on top of her and pinned her arms above her head. The redneck's lips curved into a smug grin when his grip was too strong for her to break loose and she struggled with him pinning her down.

Blue eyes stared into brown eyes and brown eyes stared into blue eyes. Both of them blushed at reach other before Daryl cleared his throat with a glare fixated on his face as he let her go.

"Next time it'll be even worse-"

"Next time you best'a not tease me." Zenora affirmed as they rose up. She picked up the twig and began making her way back towards the came. She waved for Daryl to follow. "Come on here so you can help me finish making this bow, _massa'_." Chimed the caramel-skinned woman in a sing-song tone.

Once they returned to the camp, Daryl and Zenora settled back into their post and he helped her properly finish skinning the scrawny tree branch.

"Ain't it just gonna' snap after I attach this string to it?" The African American woman inquired with curiosity laced in the depths of her soprano, soft tone. Daryl told her to make own weapon, just like he made his own arrows for his crossbow.

Zenora thought he meant something as simple as collecting rocks and pelting them at any attacking walkers. Of course, that was just plain redundant. A rock could only knock them back; not automatically _kill_ the living dead.

So then there came the sharpening of a tree branch in order to make a wooden spear. He shook his head at that one. _Wasn't gonna be quick 'nough to get the job done_, as he said it. _What happens when the damn thing got lodged too far up in the geek's head? Another one comes and yer' their dinner. _

_What yer' looking for is some light and quick. _He frowned when she held up her frying pan. His response was taking it from her and tossing it on the ground. _Not a fuckin' frying pan, Ze-Nora. Something like... _he rubbed the small goatee adorning his chin. _Something like my crossbow. _

That made the light skinned woman reach her arm out, giving him slight confusion. _Okay. _Zenora nodded, placing a hand on her hip. _Let me have it then. _

The deadpan on his face was enough to put a dull rock to shame. No way Daryl Dixon was handing over his crossbow. _I ain't say you could have mine! _He shouted, glaring daggers at the female. Daryl Dixon loved his crossbow. _Make yer' own!_

And that was exactly how they got to where they were now. Crafting a makeshift bow. The arrows would be no problem.

The redneck let out a light chuckle, shaking his head. Right now he was like the teacher and Zenora was like the student. He pointed to the smooth, crafted twig they spent some hours correctly skinning.

"That there is from an oak tree, girl." He further explained noticing her _so-what?_ face. "Oak has some of the strongest wood, so it won't snap unless you purposely try to." - "And what we're gonna do it coat it with some sap I made and use on ma' arrows, so you let it dry and give the bow more support so it don't break so easily."

She nodded her head, agreeing to what he said even though she didn't have a damn sense in her head about crafting a weapon. She trusted the redneck's judgement. He hunted squirrels, ate their meat and skinned them for Christ's sake. He obviously knew what he was doing.

And she had to say. Zenora was further impressed to see that he wasn't just some stereotypical redneck that was dumb without a sense of intelligence.

"I like that you got a good head on your shoulders," She blurted out, plastering a warm smile on her face.

When his lips twitched as if he wanted to smile back and his cheeks turned pink, she smiled even wider. "I uh,..." He paused to think, looking up at the sky. "I uh, like that you... ain't such a nigger and that you can make me laugh sometimes..." He stammered back, mentally cursing himself for showing signs of weak.

The light skinned female simple giggled, scratching her head. "I thought you said I had a big mouth, Mr. Dixon."

Daryl narrowed his eyes. "W-Well... you do!" - "Stop mocking me, girl. And don't call me Mr. Dixon!"

She giggled once more, shaking her head. "Whateva' you say, _massa'_."

"And don't call me _massa'_, either!"

"Okay, _redneck_."

Daryl kissed his teeth, trying his best to hold back a laugh himself. He snorted instead but forced a glare on his face. "That, too!"

"Alright, Daryl..." Zenora said, biting her bottom lip as she waited for him to say what she thought he was going to say.

Daryl stomped a foot on the ground. "Damn it, _Ze_-Nora. Don't call me Daryl, eith-" - "Shit!" He shouted, slapping his own forehead as he gritted his teeth at the way she fell over, clutching her stomach and laughing her soul away.

He slapped her knee, pursing his thin lips. "Hurry up and sharpen them sticks so you can have some arrows and we can get to huntin'... the sun's about to go down in an hour or so."

Play time was over, so the girl did what she was told.

Once she finished, he handed her the freshly-dried bow and got a strong piece of twine, attaching it to the ends as he bent the bow back into a curve. He smiled at the finished creation, lining the bow up in his hands and giving the tight string a pull.

It made a _boinging _sound and they both gave each other a proud look.

.

.

.

"Alright, stay close now..." he whispered as they crouched through some thick underbrush. The pair was tracking an elk. Along the way, Zenora accidentally snapped a few of her newly made arrows much to Daryl's annoyance, so he lent her one of his.

Even though for it to shoot straight and fast, she had to be sort of up close, only a few feet away from her target.

The elk halted it's movements through the grassy grounds of the forest, and so did they.

"You want this one?" Zenora murmured to him, poising her bow out. The redneck nodded, wielding his melee weapon and loading an arrow into the trigger-shot.

He peeped an eye through the scope-lens and took a deep breath, letting the trigger go. With a small _whoosing_ sound, the small elk was brought down to the ground.

They grinned broadly, rushing over to collect their kill.

"Looks like we eating good tonight!" The light skinned woman chimed, playfully slapping the Dixon brother on his back.

**A/N:**

**Okay, I decided to leave it right there. The next chapter will continue where this left off at and go on to the episode! :3**

**What did you all think? I definitely made sure to throw some Daryl/Zenora fluff in there... I hope it was good and I'm not trying to rush things. Their official, official romance will come soon enough! **

**Thanks so much for the support and yasss Zenora got a bow and arrow! Time to ditch the frying pan; baby got an upgrade. And some help from Mr. Dixon *wink, wink***

**Please review and tell me all what's on your mind! More characters are introduced and more things get done! What did you all think of this chapter? The change in her weapon? Daryl and Zenora? Lori being nice? Let me know! Stay tooned for the very next chapter!**

**Thanks For Reading!**

**Kumi-Chan/Tobi-Is-Fluffy-Chan**


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